


Untitled Love Story

by Rhys (rhyssj)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-06
Updated: 2002-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 22:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14247150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyssj/pseuds/Rhys
Summary: Life after Britney.





	Untitled Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> For Dacey. Happy Birthday.

Justin had a secret love for dance music that he tried not to acknowledge. There was just something about the mindless lyrics and endless beats that made his blood pump, and he found himself buying more and more compilation discs until his car reached maximum capacity. Chris found it hilarious. 

“I like to move it, move it,” Chris sang every time Justin suggested they all go out for some dancing and heavy drinking, since drinking was still kind of exotic and dangerous to Justin, who was just beginning to feel his twenty-one years. Contrary to popular belief, underage popstars didn’t get served, even when they were on their knees and begging. 

He liked to blare dance music when he washed his cars in his driveway. Today, it was especially perfect, with the sun shining hot upon him and the entire neighbourhood abandoned or locked up. Living in a gated community was wonderful. Everybody was so rich that nobody but Justin and the golfing guy next door stayed around for the weekends, instead flying off to Milan or Paris or Tokyo and leaving Justin alone in his universe. 

“You missed a spot,” Chris said as Justin scrubbed his tires, down on his hands and knees with suds up to his elbows, naked except for a tiny pair of jean shorts and briefs that peeked over the waistband, exposing Calvin Klein for all he was worth. Chris was sprawled on the front grass in a lawn chair, reading Maxim. 

“You could help,” Justin replied, “or you can shut up. Take your pick.” 

“Baby boy is grouchy,” Chris muttered, grinning. Justin reached over after drying his hand on his shorts then pumped the music, the bass thumping so loud that Justin could feel it in his chest. He rolled his hips and beatboxed under his breath, scrubbing at the tire with an old tee-shirt of Joey’s. 

Justin looked up as JC rolled into the driveway, beeping his hello. Joey was in the passenger seat with Lance in the back, the two of them already tangled up. Someone’s foot – Joey’s, Justin thought – was pressed against the windshield, manky toes smearing the glass. Definitely Joey and his chronic toe fungus. 

“Hey!” JC shouted from the window, waving. Justin waved back, the rag in his hand sprinkling sudsy drops of water into his hair and over his shoulders. Idly, Justin pushed his hand at them, drying his skin. Joey and Lance tumbled out of the car, and it wasn’t long before Joey hoisted Lance over his shoulders and tossed him onto Chris. 

“Need some help?” JC asked, already taking off his shirt and tucking it into his back pocket. He was dressed in his favourite pair of jeans – which, incidently, Justin had bought for himself but they’d been too small for him, so he gave them to JC, who loved hand-me-downs – that hung low on his narrow hips, only held on at all by his rainbow belt. “Then we can do my car.” 

“Anything to save seven bucks, huh?” Justin asked, laughing as JC leaned on his shoulder and grinned in his face. “Yeah, sure, C. Those bozos” – he looked at Joey, Lance and Chris, who were lying on the grass, panting and offering beers around – “ain’t good for nothing.” 

“I bought the beer!” Lance yelled. 

“Except for beer,” Justin amended, laughing again. It was such a gorgeous day, and now his four best friends were here, even if they were morons and dorks and everything in between. It didn’t matter, because Justin was all of that and then some, and they were his life, totally and completely. “Hey, C. Sponge or rag?” 

“Gimme a hose, man,” JC replied, picking it up and spraying at the drying soap on the tires. Chris started hooting for some water, so JC shot it in their direction, drenching all three of them with cold water. It was too hot and lazy for them to protest too much, and Justin grinned, sitting back on his haunches to get at the second tire and its rim. 

“God, it’s gorgeous out,” JC said over the roar of the water and the pulse of bad techno. “The sun is so warm, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. God.” JC shot the water up into the air, and it sprinkled down like rain all over them, dancing down Justin’s spine and wetting JC’s hair. “And it’s so hot.” 

“Yeah,” Justin agreed, lifting his face so the water would hit it, cooling and refreshing. He opened his mouth and drank what little he could catch, and then JC sprayed him right in the face. “Oh, you fuck!” 

“Hee!” 

JC danced out of the way as Justin lunged at him, still spluttering and choking. JC sprayed him again, a cold shot of water right at his crotch, and Justin grinned, grabbing for him. JC jumped and his foot landed in the bucket of soapy water. He squealed and sprayed Justin a third time, so Justin tackled him to the grass, JC’s foot kicking up and sending the soap everywhere. 

“You fuck,” Justin repeated, laughing as the slimy, cool water soaked into his shorts, all the dirt and crud from the tires sticking to his skin. JC twisted to get free, giggling wildly, and he managed to buck up fast and throw Justin off. As he tried to crawl away, Justin threw himself back onto him, flattening JC against the ground. 

“Say uncle,” Justin shouted, trying to get a firm handle on JC, but there were both too slippery from the soap, and sweating, too, since it was so hot, and JC was suddenly pretty heavy for a skinny guy. Grass from the lawn was sticking to them as well as all the general filth from the water, but JC was trying to wriggle away, and Justin wasn’t going to let him. 

“Uncle,” Justin threatened again, reaching for the hose, and JC caught his wrist and wretched so quickly that Justin sprayed himself in the face then managed to, just barely, get JC back. JC was laughing so hard he was gasping, and the harder he fought, the more he giggled. 

“Aunt,” JC shouted, wrapping his legs around Justin’s waist and throwing his hips up, fast and deadly, and Justin flailed backwards, propelled by the strength of it. The hose went off again, getting the lazy tangle of three, but Justin barely noticed. He hit the grass hard, laughing even harder, as JC tried to grab his wrists and hold him down. 

“Uncle,” Justin repeated, gasping for breath now. His ribs and chest ached, and his eyes teared at the corners. He was breathless and panting, and he couldn’t remember having this much fun washing cars _ever_. When JC started tickled with one hand, fingers dancing like spiders against Justin’s tense belly, and the other finally caught Justin’s wrists, Justin thought he was going to die from it all, twisting and shrieking and laughing so hard. 

“You say uncle,” JC said, and Justin bucked up again, trying to throw him, but JC was clinging like a monkey, and he was heavy now, all lean muscle and long bones. Justin shook his head, petulant and grinning, so JC tickled harder, fingers scrabbling over Justin’s tight stomach. “Say it, Timberlake. Say uncle.” 

“Never!” Justin howled, lifting his hips again, and he noticed it then and paused mid movement, JC off the ground with the amount of effort Justin was putting into trying to throw him off. Justin was hard and obviously so, his erection barely contained by his small shorts, and when he looked down, he could see the head of his cock, peeking out of the top of his pants, leaking and red. 

JC must have sensed something because he flopped on Justin and rolled them over, proclaiming loudly, “uncle, J! You win.” Justin looked over at the other guys, who were peering at him with three equally wide sets of inquisitive eyes. They knew just like JC knew, and Justin was so fucking embarrassed. 

“It happens,” JC muttered and kissed his cheek, rolling off of him and throwing his tee-shirt over Justin’s crotch. Justin stayed where he was, the sun beating down, everything about him wet: the gross soapy water, the slick sheen of sweat, the leak of his cock in his pants. 

Justin thought about dead dogs and waited for his erection to wilt. 

It took a while. 

~~~ 

To Chris’s credit, he waited a few days before inviting himself over for the lunch, two bags of greasy McDonald’s food in his hands. Justin was working out, mindless Swedish europop blaring in the background, and he was hungry enough that he let Chris in even when his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. 

“How can you listen to this mindless dribble?” Chris asked, spreading out the chow on the kitchen table. Justin wasn’t sure, but he thought the walls might be vibrating. The pictures suddenly looked very crooked. “Hey, J. You think you can put on a shirt, you trollop?” 

“Fuck off,” Justin said, shoving at him and laughing, especially when Chris started blowing kisses at him. Justin really was impressed that Chris waited three days before teasing, especially since, at the time, Justin was mortified and Chris often used such situations to his advantage. Now, Justin could laugh about it, which gave him the edge. Mostly. “And shut up.” 

“Just saying. Don’t want you getting turned on by my sexy body,” Chris said, grabbing his dick and lewdly thrusting in Justin’s general direction. Justin rolled his eyes then sunk into the nearest chair, plucking a fry from the bag. “Nah, man. Really. It happens to all of us.” 

“Seriously?” Justin asked, without trying to sound eager about it. 

“Uh. Sure,” Chris said. “Cheer up, J. At least it was C. He’s sexy.” 

“It was just all. Naked and wet, and stuff,” Justin muttered, unwrapping his Big Mac. He licked his lips before biting into it, and when he looked up, Chris was staring at him. He chewed quickly then swallowed, washing it down with a mouthful of strawberry milkshake. “What?” 

“See, you’ve gotta stop shit like that. You know it works C up, and then he works you up, and it’s just a vicious circle, all right?” Chris swiped a fry through his puddle of ketchup. Justin stared at him blankly. “The licking thing, and the half naked thing. I understand you’re hurting and on the rebound and shit. But you’re getting JC all turned on, which gets him hopeful.” 

Justin paused with the burger halfway to his lips. “C?” 

“Jesus, kid. You know he’s bi, right?” 

Justin grumbled into his food. “I was there when he told us, jackass, but, like, don’t go thinking just because he’s bi, he’s attracted to any of us. Because he said he wasn’t, and that we didn’t have to worry about shit like that, and that just because he was bi didn’t mean he automatically found all guys hot. He does have standards.” 

“Spare me the sermon, Brother Justin. Christ. Listen, between you and me, JC’s full of shit. Sure, me, Joe, and the rest of the male population? Yeah, no problems there. I’m not his type _at all_ , and Joey’s his straight best friend, and Lance has a special privilege as an ex, with the been there, done that factor. But you. I’m just saying be careful with him,” Chris said, taking a loud slurp from his chocolate milkshake. 

“I’m straight,” Justin said stupidly. 

“Uh huh. So that bisexual phase you had at sixteen was just a fleeting thing?” 

Justin flushed. “Y’all aren’t supposed to know about that.” 

“Well, Brian-the-makeup-guy told his friend, Ryan-the-wardrobe-guy, and Joey ended up having to threaten them both with physical violence and lawsuits if they ever told anyone you made out with Brian, and let’s not even mention the fellatio,” Chris said, sticking his tongue against his cheek until it bulged, making lewd gestures at his mouth. 

“Motherfucker,” Justin said. “I can’t believe he blabbed.” 

“I’m telling you.” Chris stuffed his burger into his mouth, chewing and still talking. “You think putting your mouth on some guy’s dick forms a bond? Don’t count on it, J. All you’re doing to yourself is putting your ass on the line for five minutes of fun.” 

“I last longer than that,” Justin muttered. He hated Chris’s bleak outlook on life; the dude didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. It was all, “don’t trust chicks to provide the rubber because they’ll give you a gimpy one and next thing you know, a goddamn lovechild to support,” or, “just because you think a girl fucking comes, doesn’t mean a thing. Trust me, kid, she’s only faking. Women are wily.” 

“Right, hotshot. I’m sure.” Chris reached into the bag to get another burger, and Justin followed, sighing deeply. A talk with Chris always left Justin feeling like he was suffering, even when fifteen minutes earlier, Justin had been totally loving life and working out to the soundtrack of dance music. “Cheer up, J. At least Brian said you gave good head. That’s a plus, right?” 

Justin shrugged. “I guess.” 

“You guess? Man, come to me when some untalented ass has totally scraped your prick up with his or her teeth. Just because you haven’t been scarred, doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t walking around with war stories. Hey,” Chris said suddenly, “they totally didn’t give me that fourth box of fries. Motherfucker.” 

And that was pretty much the end of that. 

~~~ 

Britney wouldn’t give him back his stuff. It pissed the fuck out of him, and he hadn’t told anybody because it was fucking embarrassing when your multimillionaire ex-girlfriend wouldn’t give you your fucking Playstation. She said he could afford to buy a new one; he said he wanted the one he already owned. Because it was his, and he bought it with money he made, and whether or not he could afford another one wasn’t the issue. 

“Give me my fucking stuff back!” Justin was in the process of shouting into the phone when JC walked in with lunch. It was a good thing Justin could actually cook, or he’d think his friends were coming over just to feed him. For some reason, though, JC being there didn’t stop him from making a scene with Britney. Justin gritted his teeth. “I want it back, Brit.” 

“You lost all claim to it, ASSHOLE, when you broke up with me. I hate you! You want your Playstation back, and all your shitty games, and that leather jacket, you’re going to have to get a lawyer, Justin Timberlake, because they’re mine now!” She screeched, and he could hear her kicking at the wall then throwing something shatter-y at something solid. “No. You know what? You want your fucking Playstation? Here, have it.” 

“Don’t you fucking DARE!” Justin shrieked because he knew what she was going to do. Some fool had agreed to dig Britney a pool, and during a few of their more explosive fights, she used it to her benefit. He listened helplessly as she stomped across the deck, and he wailed at the splash that followed, helpless as his Playstation drowned. It was all so senseless. 

“And your games, ASSHOLE? I wonder if they can swim.” 

They probably couldn’t, and Justin was already running to his car, cell phone pressed to his ear, but JC was chasing after him, and he grabbed Justin before he could get in the car, dragging him away from the door. Justin grabbed desperately at the doorhandle, trying to get in and save his stuff, especially when Britney started cackling about his leather coat. 

“That’s custom-made,” Justin begged as she read the tag, shaking it to the mouthpiece. Justin felt like saying his last goodbye. That yellow jacket had seen many a photoshoot and public appearance. He loved it more than all of his shoes combined. Already, his eyes were prickling with tears, which was so stupid, but it had memories attached to it. “Brit, please. Not my coat.” 

“Let me talk to her,” JC said, waving his hand at Justin’s face. Justin handed over the phone, pushing his hand at his eyes because he wasn’t crying over something so stupid as a coat, no fucking way. It was the season, all that grass and stuff, and allergens everywhere. JC patted his back softly, smoothing his palm around in circles, and Justin wiped his nose on the tissue JC pulled out of his pocket. 

Britney was screaming at JC now, loud and piercing, and Justin, childishly, wanted to say if she just used that type of voice when she sang then maybe she’d be able to sing live. As it was, he just curled into JC as JC patiently talked her down off the ledge, promising to trade the coat for her orange bead-dazzled corset, which she hadn’t even worn yet. Justin knew why, too. It was ugly as fuck, and he had refused to be seen with her looking like that. It was the beginning of the end. 

“You can stop crying, you know, I saved your coat,” JC said a few minutes later, handing the cell phone back to Justin, and Justin sniffed loudly and waved around, signalling that the vast greenness of Orlando was the reason he was teary and not because of his beloved yellow leather jacket. JC grinned at him. “I brought falafels, with that hot sauce you like.” 

Justin rubbed at his nose. “You did?” 

“Come inside, man. There’s a song I’ve been working on that I want your opinion about.” 

“And it’s the good hot sauce, right? Because that other shit just wasn’t hot.” 

JC pointed at the door, grinning. “Inside, Timberlake.” 

Justin smiled. 

~~~ 

“Hot,” Justin whimpered later, sweat pouring down his face and drinking water straight from the tap as JC laughed at him, clapping his hands. Justin began to tell him to fuck off, but the water went down the wrong pipe, so he started choking. What a day, Justin decided, and he blamed it all on water, and not on himself, because he was obviously an innocent party in all this drama. 

“You all right?” JC asked finally, and Justin nodded, gasping for air and beating a fist against his chest, draped over the counter. It was smooth and cool, which was nice, since Justin’s skin felt electrically charged, and it was so humid and hot outside that it was creeping in regardless of the air conditioner, that really only worked when it wanted to. “See, I was going to suggest a swim, but I’m afraid you’ll do something stupid and drown.” 

“Shut up!” Justin yelped, already up and chasing JC out of the kitchen. JC squealed, taking grand leaping strides with his long legs as Justin followed, pulling off his shirt as he moved. If he got a bit closer, he’d be able to tackle JC into the pool and that was always fun. 

Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on who you were – JC could get undressed and run at the same time, so when Justin collided with him, in just a pair of well worn levis, JC was buck naked and glistening in the late afternoon sun, startled like a deer before Justin shoved him into the pool. The trip down into the water was like the road to hell. Justin could feel naked JC manly bits against his belly, full and heavy, as they tangled. 

Justin broke the surface first, gasping for air, and he stiffened when JC’s arms circled his belly, clinging to Justin from behind. JC trilled in his ear, merry and loud, then pushed him under the water again, scrubbing his nose against the back of Justin’s head. It tickled horribly, and Justin struggled to wiggle free, mostly because it was a matter of pride, but also because JC’s dick – which was settled nicely into the small of Justin’s back – was hard, suddenly and obviously. 

Justin broke free and swam as fast as he could, desperate to get away from JC, who was a stronger swimmer and was already grabbing at Justin’s legs. Justin was laughing, but he felt almost hysterical. His hard-on, which had sprung up the minute he realised he was tackling a _naked_ JC into the water, rubbed deliciously against the front of his soaked jeans. Two times, he kept thinking. Three weeks without sex, and he was back to being fifteen. 

By the time Justin hoisted himself out of the pool to sit on the edge, hunched over and trying to hide his erection, JC was pulling himself up, arms bearing his weight and back tensed as he lifted out of the water, smooth and graceful. Justin’s cock twitched when JC lifted his leg onto the deck, getting ready to stand; Justin could see his dick, long and thick, nestled in wet, dark curls. It was semi-hard, bouncing between his legs as JC stretched his arms above his head, belly taut and speckled with fine brown hair. When JC caught him staring, Justin started to blush, but JC just smiled and dove back into the pool, surfacing a few feet away from Justin’s legs. 

“Coming back in?” JC asked, treading water. Justin could see his legs kicking around, looking even longer than they already were. “I don’t bite, man,” JC added, grinning sweetly, and he winked then shook his head, flinging the curls away from his eyes. Justin took his legs out of the water and crossed them, shifting uncomfortably. “C’mon, man.” 

“I’m perfectly comfortable here, thank you,” Justin said, drumming his fingers on his knees. The sun, which was low in the sky but right on him, was pulling the sweat from his skin, and he was still torched from the hot sauce. Justin kept his pool at a comfortable temperature, and he did want to go back in. He just. He wasn’t wearing briefs under his jeans, and it sucked to swim in wet denim, and his suit was in the pool house, but JC had set a precedent that involved nakedness. And that was the problem. 

“Come on. I’ll close my eyes if you’re so shy about it,” JC said, squishing them shut. He treaded around in a circle, all legs and arms, and sing-songed, “come on, Justin. You can do it. I promise I won’t peek,” as he turned around and around. Justin just lifted his hips and yanked down the jeans, the denim sticking to his skin. Quickly, he threw himself in the pool and paddled to the opposite end. 

They swam around for a while as the sun started to dip. Justin made a game of it – he called it Avoid JC Like The Plague in his head – and JC humoured him without question. A couple of times, JC got out of the pool to do running springs off the diving board. Once, he did it all backwards. He cannonballed into the water, drenching Justin every single time, so Justin, finally, did it back, just to make him stop. 

“What’s up with you? Still mad about the Playstation?” JC asked, sitting down on the end of the diving board instead of jumping off it, toes dancing almost two feet above the water. Justin knew, if he got close enough, one tug would get JC back into the pool. Looking up at JC, Justin shrugged, kicking his legs to stay afloat. “You should tell us what’s going on in your life, with Britney. We’re worried.” 

“It’s just messy,” Justin replied. “Like, she’s mad at me, and wants me dead, and stuff. Like Bobbie did with you, except Britney has the money to fuck me over.” Justin floated onto his back, his legs starting to cramp up, and he could feel his dick bobbing against his belly, still half-hard. His skin felt tingly all over. “I wanted it to end peacefully.” 

“It rarely does,” JC replied, bouncing a bit on the diving board, legs spread just enough that Justin could see between them, JC’s cock and his balls and stuff. It was nice, all of it. A nice looking dick, Justin thought, then flushed to himself as his own started filling again, heavy and warm. JC was staring at him. “You miss her. That’s expected. If you want, we can go out and, like, pick up a girl for you, or something.” 

“I don’t want a girl,” Justin said quickly then realised what he said, and added, “um, like, to have sex with. I mean. I don’t need a girl.” Justin winced. That wasn’t any better. “I don’t need to have sex with a girl, or anything. It’s just. It’s nothing. I’m kinda. Sorry,” he muttered, dropping his pelvis into the water and treading in place again. “It’s nothing.” 

“Oh,” JC said. “Then you’re. Me.” 

Justin felt his face burst into flame, hotter than a Florida noon. “It’s. Kinda. It’s you, but it’s. Um,” Justin swam for the ladder, his shoulders tight and twisted. “You’re just. naked, and I’m naked, and I.” Justin scrambled out of the pool, away from JC, who was already up and moving. “It’s probably that I miss Britney, and stuff. And you’re being so nice.” 

“I don’t mind,” JC offered, “Justin, hey. It’s okay. It happens.” 

“I know. It’s just. It’s nothing,” Justin repeated, waving a hand over his shoulder. “Listen, I’m wiped. I’m just. I’m going to go to bed and sleep.” Obviously, he thought, but left out the part about masturbating before all of that, his cock still full and tingly between his legs. “You can crash on the couch if you want, or in one of the bedrooms. Not mine, of course, but any of the others.” 

“Justin,” JC said. 

But Justin just kept walking. 

~~~ 

Justin worked himself into a mild homosexual panic the next day. Once was explainable; twice was just suspicious. It was JC, of course, which maybe explained something, but Justin couldn’t deal. So he lounged around in his boxers, watching straight porn and jerking off until his dick was limp and protesting. The doorbell rang once, but he didn’t answer it. Later, when he checked outside, there was a package shoved between the screen and the front door. 

He listened to it then kicked it around a bit. When it didn’t explode, and he’d called Dre to find out if it was okay for him to open packages found on his stoop, he slowly peeled off the tape. Britney’s name was sketched in the top, lefthand corner, but Justin didn’t trust it too much. Even if she did send it, she probably wanted to blow him up. 

It was only his coat, the yellow leather soft and worn. He shrugged into it and nuzzled the collar with his cheek. If his dick wasn’t worn raw, he would have jerked off right there. Instead, he got up and stared at himself in the mirror. He turned around, and he saw it. In black marker, right across the back: ASSHOLE. 

“Fuck!” Justin wailed, tearing it off and throwing it. He kicked over the nearest chair and screamed, fisting his hands in his curls and pulling hard until it hurt. With a defeated sigh, he slumped onto the couch and tried not to cry. It wasn’t working out like he wanted. Part of him just wanted to take her back, just to make her stop, but that wasn’t fair to him. 

He hiccuped, and that seemed to set him off. Tears rolled in rivers down his face, the salty taste touching his lips, and he cried harder, pushing his face against the couch cushion and screaming into it until he choked on his own snot. His chest was heaving with sobs, hard and painful, and he reached for the phone, blindly pushing in numbers. 

“Hey,” JC said. 

“Can. you. come. over?” Justin asked, his words halting as they came out of his mouth, like he had to throw them out of his throat. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Please come over. Please,” Justin begged, “pleasepleaseplease.” 

JC arrived fifteen minutes later, bounding into the house, breathless. Justin looked up at him and started bawling again, giving him random words like, “asshole” and “coat.” When JC sat down, Justin climbed into his lap and wailed on his shoulder, clinging to him as JC rubbed his back, singing softly in Justin’s ear. 

“Talk to me, J,” JC said after a while. 

“She hates me,” Justin blurted out, wiping his cheeks on JC’s shirt, which was soaked through from all the crying. That made Justin cry harder, and JC reached back to grab a wad of tissues. Justin took them and blew his nose. “And she ruined my coat. I loved that coat.” 

“She what?” JC asked, voice strangely even. 

Justin hiccuped. “My coat. She.” Justin waved at the fucking thing crumpled on the floor, the H swallowed up in a fold so it said ASS OLE, but Justin was pretty sure it was still obvious. JC looked at it then looked back to Justin, and Justin dropped his head. “I guess I kind of freaked out. A lot. Maybe? I’m just stressed.” 

“She wrecked your coat?” JC asked, and hesitantly, Justin nodded. “That _asshole_. She fucking promised me!” JC’s body tightened with rage, which Justin didn’t recognise at first because it took senselessly killing kittens and stuff like that to get JC mad about anything that wasn’t music related. “Fuck, Justin. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” 

Justin sniffled then bobbed his head. “It’s just a coat.” 

“You loved that coat. It was yours.” JC cupped Justin’s face and dabbed at Justin’s cheeks with his thumb. Justin wrinkled up his forehead as the tears started spilling over again, but they were calmer this time, defeated instead of angry. “I have a dry cleaner who can probably clean it up, okay? I’ll bring it in tomorrow.” 

“I’m such a wimp,” Justin muttered suddenly, feeling acutely embarrassed. He was sitting on JC’s lap, in a pair of skimpy boxers and nothing else, crying like a baby because his ex-girlfriend destroyed his favourite article of clothing. Also, he was nuzzling JC’s neck almost unconsciously as JC’s hands, warm and soft, stroked down his back. 

“Breakups are hard,” JC said. His fingers were dancing at the small of Justin’s back now, slow and methodical as they moved over skin, which Justin imagined was quite sweaty due to all the masturbating he’d been doing. He also smelled like spunk, but he wasn’t going to think about that either. “And she’s being an asshole about it.” 

Justin’s skin prickled all over, but he nodded. JC wasn’t supposed to use mean language about other people. He didn’t approve of fighting or violence, and the first time JC ever saw Chris get into a fistfight, he wouldn’t go near Chris for a week. JC was driven and determined and all of that, but he was always nice about it. 

JC’s hand swooped up Justin’s body as his other stayed nestled in the small of Justin’s back. The roaming one spread over a shoulder blade, thumb in the dip of his spine, and Justin shuddered, lifting his shoulder until the blade peaked his skin. JC’s palm folded around it, tracing its shape, and it was calming. Justin breathed in the sweet smelling scent of JC’s skin, warm like orange blossoms blooming in the sun, and concentrated on the glide of JC’s hand. 

“Thank you,” Justin murmured, mouthing the curve of JC’s ear, and JC nodded. Justin could tell his face was pinched, still angry on Justin’s behalf, so he lifted his hand and smoothed his fingers over JC’s tight expression, thumbing his lower lip. Justin wasn’t hard, didn’t think he could be after the marathon his dick had been run through, but he felt aroused in other places, like his shoulder blade, and the tips of his fingers, and the dip at the base of his spine. 

It wasn’t anything pressing, though, and without a hard-on pointing at JC accusingly for getting him all worked up, Justin didn’t feel too freaked out. He thought maybe he’d have to talk to someone about this, just in case, but his mild homosexual panic seemed to be gone. It’d been a while since anyone had touched him like this, like his body wasn’t something to worship but to protect, to take into their hands and hold until it stopped shaking. 

“I smell, don’t I?” Justin asked abruptly. 

JC smiled against his neck. “Um. Kind of. It’s not too bad.” 

“You’re sure?” Justin asked. “Because I can shower.” 

“This is fine, Justin.” JC lifted his head. “Okay? It’s fine.” 

Justin nodded and settled back down against JC, his eyes still feeling raw and sore. He tried to blink the hurt away, and when that didn’t work, fluttered his eyelashes over JC’s cheek. 

~~~ 

Joey was over with Brianna when Justin got a couriered letter from Britney’s lawyers, saying they wanted the house in Beverly Hills and would do everything in their power to get it. Justin stared at the letter for a long, long time as Joey stood with Brianna in his arms, both of them wearing mirrored expressions of confusion. 

“Excuse me,” Justin said and walked through the kitchen onto the back deck, shutting the sliding glass door behind him. Inhaling sharply, he opened his mouth and screamed, crushing the letter between his fingers. A flock of birds lifted from the trees, flapping away as they squawked in harmony, and he was sure the neighbours hated him by now for being so noisy, but he was going to explode otherwise. When his air ran out and his throat started hurting, Justin squished his lips together and breathed through his nose. 

Joey was fishing arrowroot cookies out of a baggie when Justin came back in, Brianna sitting on the kitchen counter and drinking a cup of apple juice. Joey lifted an eyebrow as Justin slumped into a chair, the letter still in his hands. He let it drop. 

“Kill me,” Justin muttered. “She’s suing me for the house.” 

“Oh.” Joey grabbed Brianna around the waist, and brought her and the cookies over to the table. He plopped her down in his lap then handed her an arrowroot, trading off for the cup. She started gnawing quietly as Joey brushed his fingers through her curls. “Jayce mentioned the breakup wasn’t going very well.” 

Justin thumped his head against the edge of the table. 

“Listen, J. We’ve all been through this, man. You just gotta talk to us, let us know what’s going on. Remember Julie?” Joey asked, taking one of the cookies and stuffing it into his mouth. Brianna looked up at him and reached for it, so he bit off half and gave it to her. “She threw out all my shit. Shit I fucking loved.” 

“Britney drowned my Playstation and all my games,” Justin replied mournfully. “And she wrote ASSHOLE in black marker across my yellow coat.” Justin rubbed his cheek along the table, shoulders drooped in utter defeat. “She can have the house. I don’t care anymore. I just want her to go away.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Joey said, squeezing his shoulder. “Hey, want my kid for the afternoon? We got a new sandbox. You can come over and build castles together. Or, well, she eats the sand, but I’m hoping if someone she adores doesn’t, she’ll stop that.” 

Justin looked at Brianna, who was covered in cookie goo and beaming at him. She clapped dirty hands at him, reaching out, and Justin grinned back at her, plucking her from Joey’s lap and onto his own. She offered him a piece of cookie, and he gobbled it up, playfully snapping at her fingers until she was screeching with laughter. 

“Great. I have to buy groceries before Kelly kicks me out of the house. I’ll order pizza for dinner, man.” Joey was already up and moving to the front door as Justin followed, Brianna hooked over his hip and trying to wriggle free as Justin wiped her face and hands clean with a dishtowel he picked up as he passed. “You okay, J?” 

“Yeah,” Justin said then amended it, “mostly.” 

~~~ 

Justin broke out all the dance music he could find, dragging his boom-box out of the house and setting it up on the deck then he glared at his garden. His gardener, Fernando, was away on holidays, and the grass was long and overgrown. He danced through it for a while, liking how it brushed softly against his ankles, but it was like a jungle, wild and out of control. Also, the lawnmower made him feel manly, which was a good thing since his ego was wounded. 

He tugged off his tee-shirt and tucked it in the ass of his jeans, tugging them down even lower on his body. His hipbones jutted out, sharp and defined, and he ran a finger over the ridge of muscle as it disappeared under his striped belt. The sun was hot, sweat already beading along his shoulders, so he grabbed his trucker hat and adjusted it until it sat slightly off kilter. 

It took him a while to remember how to turn the lawnmower on, but once it was purring, it was like coming home. Back when they all lived in the house together, Justin had been responsible for the grass, because Chris wasn’t allowed near anything that could cut off someone else’s toes, and JC wasn’t supposed to go near it in fear of cutting off his own toes, and Lance preferred to vacuum, which Justin traded off on happily. 

He’d called Lance earlier, but he wasn’t home, which sucked. Lance was pretty gay. So gay that Justin had never even considered that maybe he was straight, because it was impossible. He wasn’t flamey or effeminate or whatever; he just had an honest appreciation for men, especially good-looking intellectuals, and didn’t hide the fact that he had sex with them. 

Over the roar of the lawnmower, Justin could still hear the thump of the bass line, so he bobbed his head a bit then reached behind him for his tee-shirt, lifting it to wipe his face dry. It was so hot; sweat was pouring down his chest in rivers, so he dabbed at it then under his arms before tucking his shirt back into his pants. 

When the lawn was finally done, Justin put the mower away and returned to find JC sitting on the patio, two tall glasses of iced tea on the table. Justin took the nearest one and downed half of it, his shirt in his other hand as he dried himself off. The sun was beating down, and he lifted his face to it, the chill of the tea drizzling down his throat. 

“It’s good,” Justin said, lifting his glass. 

“You looked hot,” JC replied, sipping at his. He shrugged. “You busy?” 

“Not really, no. Not at all, actually,” Justin replied. “I’m just chilling.” 

They smiled at each other then JC turned away and lifted a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, his fingers lingering there as something far away caught his attention for a second. When JC sucked his lower lip into his mouth, Justin licked his own lips, dry and chapped as they were. Putting the moves on JC was a stupid idea – Chris was the king of stupid ideas he thought were brilliant, and even he had thought this wasn’t a smart one – but it wasn’t like Justin wasn’t going to do it, probably. He was merely entertaining the possibility, and openly admiring JC while he did it. Anyway, it wasn’t like JC didn’t know people checked him out all the time. He probably expected it. 

“You mind if I sun for a bit?” JC asked, looking back, and Justin shrugged. In fact, it seemed like the best thing to do. He pushed himself out of the chair and went inside to the laundry room to get two towels, and when he came back, JC was folding his shirt. The lines of his back were clean and smooth, all of it tapering down into a narrow waist, a perfect vee. 

“Towel,” Justin said, offering him one, and JC unfolded it, lying it down over the lawnchair and patting it smooth. Justin put his own down then reached for his iced tea, to drink the last of it. The perspiration from the glass had created a series of watery halos on the deck. 

Justin turned to say something stupid to JC, but JC was bending down and taking off his shoes, which was the last item of clothing still on his body. Wow, Justin thought, at the sight of JC’s ass, pale and small, wide open for all to see, even if they shouldn’t be looking at all. Justin’s backyard was as a guarded as it could be, but Justin was still there. 

“Joey told me about the house thing,” JC said, untying his laces. Justin still couldn’t believe he could bend like that, almost in half. Consciously, he knew JC had taken gymnastic classes as a kid, but even after all this time, JC’s flexibility was astounding. “You decide what you’re going to do about it?” 

“Probably sign off. I’m tired of fighting, and like. It’s ruined now, you know?” Justin said. His mouth felt dry; he was impressed he could speak at all. JC was waggling his ass around, as he yanked at a knot, before he sat down hard on the deck, bending until he was right up close to the laces and could better pluck at them. Justin wondered if JC could suck his own cock. From this angle it certainly looked like he could. “I’m over it.” 

JC finally got his shoe off and kicked it away. It bounced a few feet then fell into the pool, but JC didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he didn’t care. Instead, he pulled himself up into the chair and stretched, looking over at Justin. “That’s probably the best idea, man. If I can do anything for you, just ask, J. Okay?” He reached over and squeezed Justin’s knee. 

Justin nodded, and JC pressed his fingers together one last time before rolling over onto his belly and using his arms as a pillow, folded up as damp ringlets spilled over them. JC’s skin was wet and shiny from the heat. “Um,” Justin said, “did you put on sunscreen?” 

“Shit,” JC said, pushing to get up, but Justin forced him back down, a steady hand on the small of his back. The patch of skin was wet and hot, with a tangle of nearly invisible hairs matted with sweat at the centre of the dip. Justin thought about pressing the flat of his tongue against it and tasting, but instead, he ran into the kitchen to get the lotion. 

“Can you put some on me?” JC asked sleepily, rolling his head so he could look at Justin, and Justin nodded, so quick that he feared his head would pop off and roll away. “Thanks, man. I’ll buy you dinner later, or something, because you’re so nice.” He grinned. 

Justin stared at his own hands as he slathered on the white sunscreen. It was cold when it first hit JC’s skin, and JC did a full body shiver, laughing, but his skin was hot and warmed it up quickly. Justin noticed his own hands were really big as he covered every inch of JC’s exposed skin, blushing hot red when JC said, in a very awful English accent, “don’t forget me bum,” and giggled strangely. So Justin covered his ass in it, too, but did it really, really fast. 

“Slippery,” JC mumbled then rolled over. “And the front.” 

Whoa, hello, cock. Justin’s palms started sweating harder, and he had the urge – probably for the first time in three years – to give someone else head. Oral sex wasn’t his thing these days; most people, including himself, would have given their right arm to eat out Britney Spears, but she’d been weirded out by it, and when she explained her issues, they became his, like they usually did. Before, though, he’d really liked going down on girls. and boys. 

JC was snoring suddenly, and when Justin looked up, he knew he was out cold. JC was sprawled and comfortable, all the tension gone from his body, and Justin thought about leaving him like that but then worried he’d be burned. He covered JC quickly with lotion, holding his breath, then squished a glob in JC’s palm and used JC’s own hand to pat at his dick, which was hard and full and _beautiful_. 

Justin rolled JC back over and arranged his head so he wouldn’t wake up with a crick in his neck then looked around. JC would probably be fine for a minute or two, Justin thought, and if not, well, hopefully JC would wake up and save himself. Dancing across the deck on his toes, Justin waltzed into the kitchen then stood behind the island that held all his pots and pans, hand already at his dick and pulling. 

“Justin?” JC said, standing in the doorway a few minutes later, just when Justin was on the edge of orgasm. Behind JC, the sun was bright, and Justin was nearly blinded by it, JC’s body a dark spot in the brilliant light. Justin stopped mid-stroke and looked at him, caught completely red-handed. “Oh, you’re. I’m sorry. I. Um.” 

“Oh god,” Justin moaned. 

“You’re just rebounding. Horny,” JC said, and it almost sounded like a question. Helplessly, Justin shrugged. He didn’t know. He was bi before, and he was bi now, and JC was just so sexy all the fucking time, and he didn’t even mean to be. Justin would admit that he tried to be hot, but JC was just naturally tempting. “You’re just. I mean. Aren’t you?” 

Before Justin realised his legs were on a mission, he was already across the kitchen and his hands were on JC’s face, and then their mouths were together, open and wet. This is me kissing JC, Justin thought giddily. This is JC’s tongue, and his lips, and his hands on my shoulders. This is his breath I’m breathing in, this is his skin I’m tasting, this is his mouth I’m kissing. 

Justin’s hands were desperately trying to get a firm hold on JC, but he was still slick and slippery, and Justin lost his grip at one point and bumped his chin on JC’s shoulder, tipping them both against the wall and into a tangle on the floor. They rolled for a bit until they were on plush carpet instead of icy cold tile. The movement put JC on top. 

Justin lifted his hands and buried them in JC’s hair, curls caught between his fingers as he tightened his grip and pulled JC down for another kiss. JC sprawled over him, harder than either of them intended since he was slippery like a stick of butter left out, but Justin could take it, didn’t even mind when their teeth bumped painfully as JC fell. 

How long they kissed, Justin didn’t know, but his mouth started to ache, and he knew, another few minutes of JC’s tongue sliding carefully over his, twirling together like snakes, Justin would _really_ put the moves on JC, instead of just making out with him. And that was a line that Justin felt he should only cross after he talked to Lance, who knew all things queer. 

Gently, Justin pulled away, panting hard. His air conditioner was on full blast, and he was consciously aware of the fact that the house was probably resembling the arctic since it’d finally started working again, but he felt hot all over, like he’d been sitting in a sauna all afternoon. He felt electric. It was like being on stage, but more, so much more. Wow, he thought, dazed, wow. 

JC climbed off and lay down next to Justin. They held hands, twisting their fingers together, and even that was almost too much. Justin remembered the silky smooth feeling of a cock between his lips, how it felt and tasted and everything, but he really needed to get clearance from a neutral party before doing anything major. But he wanted to, so much that he ached with it. 

“Are you still going to buy me dinner?” Justin asked, just for something to say. 

“I definitely am now,” JC replied. Justin looked over to see him grinning, so Justin smiled back, a little less bright but only because he didn’t want to hurt JC in any way and knew that maybe he would, just by accident, especially with Britney still looming. But JC knew about that, and it was too early to worry now, anyway. Justin just had to talk to Lance. 

~~~ 

Lance lived with a guy named Justin whom he’d been dating for almost three years. It’d never struck Justin as weird, though other people seemed to think it should, but Justin liked Justin. He was smart, and funny, and loosened Lance up whenever Lance worked himself into a frantic mess of nerves and emotions, which happened more than Lance wanted to admit. He was attractive, too. Tall and built like an athlete, and he wore glasses that totally worked for him. The unfortunate part was that his hair was light brown and curly, though much longer than Justin’s own hair was, so there was still a slight resemblance. But Justin never thought it was weird. 

“Hey,” Justin said when Justin answered the door. They hugged and pretended to punch at each other, dodging each other’s throws with laughter. Justin was a little bit taller than Justin was; Lance generally liked his men huge. Justin held a suspicion that Lance was a big bottom, but neither Justin nor JC would confirm it. 

“Is Lance around?” Justin asked. 

“Yeah. He’s outside, reading.” Justin hung back, idling pulling at one of his longest curls, dragging it down to his chin. Unlike Justin, Justin wasn’t cocky or self-assured, which was what Lance liked most in a person, after intellectualism and a handsome face. “Is this a private meeting, or can I hang around?” 

“Hey, man. You’re always welcome. I mean that.” Justin clasped Justin on the shoulder, and Justin smiled at him, green eyes bright behind wire-rimmed glasses. That was the one odd thing about Lance and Justin; they had identical eyes. It was unnerving to talk to them when they were sitting side by side. “You’re definitely the coolest guy he’s been with. Though, like, JC’s disqualified from the ranking process.” 

Justin laughed and led Justin outside, grabbing a few beers out of the fridge as they passed it. Justin accepted the bottle of Killian’s Irish Red – Lance always seemed to stock imports, which Justin didn’t mind. Having had his first beers in Germany, he couldn’t drink the American brews. They tasted like piss – and pressed it to his throat, the chill reaching under his skin and cooling him as he stepped out onto the patio. This heatwave really needed to end now. 

Lance put down his book and slide forward in his lounge chair so Justin could slip in behind, spreading his legs as Lance moved back, accepting the beer with a light kiss on the lips. Justin sat down on the opposite chair, tapping his fingers over his knees. 

“What’s up?” Lance asked. 

“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being really stupid, would it be terrible for me to, like, hook up with someone not-Britney?” Justin asked, taking another mouthful of beer and savouring it before swallowing. It was just what he needed. He was still a bit wound up from yesterday, acutely turned on, and he’d wore his heaviest jeans to try and hide the after effects. The quicker he could get this neutral opinion, the quicker he could get with JC. 

“Is Britney still fucking with you?” Justin asked, and Justin nodded. Lance frowned deeply, and Justin shrugged apologetically. Lance had, until very recently, adored Britney as his very best girl friend this side of the Mississippi, but he’d sided with Justin, too. “I’d say an eight then, at least. Lance?” 

“Eight,” Lance agreed. He was curling his toes around the edge of the chair. 

Justin frowned. “Okay, but what if this person is a really old friend of mine?” 

Lance and Justin exchanged looks and said together, “seven.” 

“Come on,” Justin said, thumping his foot on the deck. “That’s totally worth more than a point deduction. Two, at least, probably three. I’m over Britney,” Justin added, taking a breath and a chug of beer. “Just because we’re having some slight legal problems isn’t a big deal. Like, what can she do that she hasn’t done already? She’s drowned everything I own, wrecked my favourite coat, and is suing me for our house.” 

“The yellow one?” Justin asked, and Justin nodded sadly. “I liked that coat.” 

“Me too,” Justin said. “She wrote ASSHOLE right across the back. JC took it in to get cleaned, but I’m not holding my breath.” 

“Justins, can we get back on topic here, please?” Lance asked, smirking, his white teeth spread in a huge smile, and Justin kissed his neck, right where Lance was ticklish. Lance folded his knees to his chest and laughed, low and deep in his chest, tilting his head to his shoulder. 

“It’s a guy,” Justin said quietly, which caused them to stop what they were doing and gawk at him, like it was earth-shattering news or something, when Justin was entirely sure if Chris and Joey knew, so did Lance and, of course, the topic of conversation himself. Justin scratched his knee, chewing his lower lip between his teeth, and added the rest, “and his name is probably JC.” 

“Two,” Lance said firmly, and Justin nodded in agreement. Justin glared at them both; two was still something, and if they were going to put doubt in his head, they better tell him why. “Listen, Justin. First of all, it’s JC. I love him to death, but he’s intense, and you have to put up with when he doesn’t want to talk to anyone or leave his house or get up in the morning. Second of all, dating within the group is always risky, especially when you may or may not be rebounding. Third of all, the whole queer thing. Sucking a guy’s dick when you’re sixteen isn’t the same as –” 

“I swear to god, Bass. If you finish that thought, I will demand we wrestle until I’m declared king because I will kick your ass, you dick,” Justin said, pointing an accusing finger at Lance, who waved it away. Behind Lance, Justin laughed loudly, shaking his head. 

“See, that’s why it’s at two, and not three. I have faith that you’re not going to break JC’s heart and proclaim straightness, but if you do, it wouldn’t be me who’ll deal with you, it’ll be him.” Lance pointed at Justin, who grabbed Lance’s hand, unfurled his fingers and pressed a kiss to his palm. Lance smiled at him. “Who can kick your ass. Easily.” 

“Four Eyes there? I doubt it,” Justin said, smirking. 

“I kind of want to see you guys go at it,” Justin admitted, kissing Lance’s temple and letting it linger for a second or two. “That’s pretty hot. I’d be living out the fantasy of gay men everywhere watching two guys from Nsync rolling around on the ground together. I’d sell the pictures.” 

“Why do I keep you around again?” Lance asked, leaning his head back and grinning. Justin gave him an open-mouthed kiss on the cheek, pretending to gnaw at his face, and Lance squirmed, his toes spreading helplessly. From what Justin could see, Justin was scrabbling his fingers over Lance’s belly, which always reduced Lance to nothing. 

“Because I’m good in the sack,” Justin said, “and I love you madly.” 

Lance laughed, peeling Justin’s fingers away from his stomach and kissing each of them, one by one. “That must be it, then. I know a good thing when I see him.” 

Justin watched them and smiled. 

~~~ 

Justin found JC in his greenhouse, painting a lily. Or Justin thought it was supposed to be a lily. JC’s artistic ability, though not bad, often left things confused. It was always a beautiful confused, but Joey had guessed wrong on the subject of his paintings so many times that the rest of them walked around, fearful of unwittingly insulting the latest masterpiece. 

“Hey,” Justin said and brushed a kiss over JC’s temple, soft and quick, as not to scare him. JC looked up and grinned, lifting a paint-covered finger and hooking it under Justin’s chin. With a gentle tug, he urged Justin forward, and they kissed again, mouth to mouth, a smooth dance of tongue between them. This was good, Justin thought, this was. This was really good. 

“Am I allowed to do that?” Justin asked when he pulled away, breathless. 

“Kiss me?” 

Justin bit his lip and nodded. “I wasn’t sure. Because. I just wasn’t sure.” 

“I’ll stop you, if you do something I don’t like, J. I always do. Okay?” JC stood up suddenly, the stool he was sitting on screeching across the stone tiles, quick and fast. Covered in speckles of paint and wearing nothing but a pair of ripped jeans, JC took Justin’s hands and pulled him to where the lilies were, glowing white and fragrant. “Stay there.” 

Justin nodded as JC scampered off, pushing a messy hand through his hair, which was lined with streaks of white and yellow, and when JC came back, he was pulling an antique wire lawnchair. It squeaked at it moved over the stone. When it was in exactly the right place, under a beam of light through the glass above, JC returned to him. 

“I want you to sit for me,” JC said, hands on Justin’s hips. “Will you?” 

Justin nodded. He chewed his lip as he watched JC pull up Justin’s shirt, fingers at Justin’s head as they unfolded his ears from the hemline. JC’s hands smelled like oil and dirt. He unzipped Justin’s jeans and pulled them down, tapping at the spot behind Justin’s knees until he bent his legs, kicking off his pants. JC whisked down his briefs then looked up and smiled. 

Justin shrugged. There was very little else he could say on the topic of his hard-on that he hadn’t already. It was becoming JC-exclusive. JC, anyway, was always hard, and he’d never been bothered by everyone knowing he was, so Justin could be cool about it, too. Besides, Justin thought it was flattering, to know someone was turned on by you and you alone and to be aware of it visually. So he just grinned and laughed. JC kissed his thigh. 

“Okay, now lie down,” JC said, and the minute Justin was done, JC started to arrange Justin’s limbs. Justin watched him quietly. Between the touch of JC’s careful hands and the sun shining down through the glass, his skin felt on fire. Justin didn’t know how JC could work in there – Justin was already shimmering with sweat, his breath tight and shallow in his chest – but he didn’t ask. Obviously, JC could. 

“Now, stay still,” JC said and returned to his easel. 

Justin closed his eyes and napped a bit. It was hot, yeah, but it wasn’t a bad type of hot, really, it just made him feel sleepy and lazy. The position he was lying in was actually pretty comfortable, his cock resting hard against the inner skin of his thigh. JC had folded his palm over it and put it there as Justin ducked his head and shivered full-body. He fell asleep to the pleasant hum in his body, remembering how it felt to have JC’s hand on him. 

When he woke, JC was washing his brushes at the big silver wash basin. Justin blinked a few times but didn’t move, just turned his head to the painting, which was displayed as it dried. Oh, Justin thought. It looked like him, a little abstract but that was JC’s way. He just saw things differently, and that, Justin realised as he stared at the picture, was how JC saw him. 

“It’s really beautiful,” Justin said. His words felt big in his throat. 

“You’re really beautiful,” JC replied, but he didn’t turn around. 

Justin wasn’t vain, really, but he knew he was handsome. It was hard to claim he wasn’t. People all around the world seemed to put him up and worship his beauty, and though Justin knew it was there, he didn’t like a big deal made about it. So he was handsome. So what? There were people more beautiful than him who got ignored, like JC. Just once, Justin wanted a photographer to call up Johnny and ask for JC and for JC to actually agree to do it. 

JC turned off the water and walked over to Justin, sitting down on the edge of the recliner. He ran a warm hand along Justin’s side then down to his knee and back up again, lingering his hand on Justin’s hipbone until Justin lifted his arms and threaded his fingers through JC’s hair, sweat damp and tangled. JC touched a thumb to Justin’s bottom lip. 

Justin spread his legs, using his right one to circle JC by the waist and pull him in closer. When JC raised an eyebrow, eyes sparkling with amusement, Justin just shrugged innocently then licked his lips, slowly, wetly, so JC would get the drift, or stop teasing, or something. JC laughed at him but got up on his knees, leaning over Justin and bending down until their mouths pressed together. Justin kept his leg around JC’s back, holding his close. 

“You aren’t going to run away this time?” JC asked, pulling his mouth away to suck on Justin’s collarbone instead, tongue tracing designs over Justin’s heated skin. Justin shook his head, trying to keep his spine flat on the cushion; mostly, he wanted to arch up and beg for more. “I’m glad you talked to someone.” 

“Lance told you,” Justin said flatly. 

“Not about what you talked about, just that you stopped by. I figured the rest out by myself, Justin, because I know you. You’re totally mental, man,” JC said and smiled. Justin looked at him then burst out laughing, which set JC off, leaning into him, puffing laughter against Justin’s neck. Justin held onto him as he giggled helplessly because once JC was set off, it took him a while to calm down, but he was beautiful as he tried to, holding his stomach, murmuring, “sorry, sorry,” as he struggled for control. 

When JC stopped, Justin licked a little bit at the corner of his mouth, trying to get JC back into the mood. Thankfully, JC was very sensual and could always be counted on to focus on anything – like a casual tongue stroking over his lips – that demanded more attention than just speaking. Justin really wanted to get laid, especially by JC. His cock was so hard. 

Justin slid his hands under the back of JC’s jeans. He was bare beneath, his ass small and tight, and he fit easily into Justin’s palms. Justin kneaded and squeezed and rubbed until JC was sprawled over him, rubbing in between Justin’s legs, a helpless look of desperation on his face. Once JC was aware of desire, it was hard to make him think of anything else. Justin pulled his hands away and went to work on his jeans. 

The zipper baffled Justin, suddenly and completely. He couldn’t seem to remember how it worked, though he knew it was simple, but he wanted JC naked so urgently that his fingers were all confused. Stupidly, he pulled at the button and moaned a bit because JC was gyrating between his legs, keening impatiently in Justin’s ear. Finally, the zipper hissed down, and JC folded in two trying to get out of his jeans, tossing them onto a large cactus in the corner. 

“Oh mah gawd,” Justin muttered. The thing with Brian – the guy he had sucked off five years prior – hadn’t really involved actual cock-on-cock contact. They’d kissed a bit, but they’d been leaning across a chair, and they’d kept their pants up but open. This was. not really like that at all. JC’s cock, long and thick, was on his belly, and bumping Justin’s own dick, which was so depraved that Justin knew from the way it was leaking that he was going to come in, like, two seconds. And that was being generous. 

“Um, I’m. soon,” Justin offered lamely. 

JC’s eyes flickered open and he nodded then slid down Justin’s body, hot hands parting Justin’s thighs. His mouth was right there, then, sucking in the head, and Justin wriggled his toes, desperate for footing, but JC was just too good and enthusiastic and smiling that Justin came with an arch of his back, heel thumping feebly against the cushion. He stared at the sun, dazed, until JC made him look away with a quiet, “you’ll wreck your eyes.” 

Justin dipped his chin a bit, skin still on fire. It smelled like lilies, rich and pungent, and the sun was fanning out over them, searingly hot and bright. Hotter still, of course, was JC pulling his lips over Justin’s shoulder, hand extended over Justin’s hip and holding him close. Unable to do anything else, Justin kissed JC’s hair, mouth open as he sought flesh and got it, right at the dip of JC’s temple. He licked at the skin, salty and wet, and stroked his hands down JC’s neck, shoulders and back. 

They tangled into a knot of overheated flesh, Justin’s left hand twined with JC’s right one as they danced against each other, twisting and moving in the shine of midday sun. JC was a fabulous kisser, slow and thorough, and he smiled through it, keeping his eyes half open. Justin was purely an eyes closed kind of guy, but he found he couldn’t quite shut them with JC looking at him, tasting his mouth with a winding tongue. 

Justin’s hands felt huge and clunky, worse than they ever had with Britney, when he was dumb and confused and desperate to make her feel good. She was a virgin even if he wasn’t, but to him, it was pretty special anyway, and he’d wanted to impress her. With JC, he felt out of his league and couldn’t stop wiggling, or giggling a bit when JC tickled at his waist, or snorting when they bumped heads as Justin tried to steal another kiss. 

When JC circled his cock, Justin started choking, just out of shock, and his eyes watered at he held in the coughs, nodding when JC murmured, “you okay?” JC ended up thumping him on the back until his pipes were clear, and Justin smiled sheepishly. So it wasn’t perfect, really, but Justin wasn’t complaining, since it was mostly perfect and that was enough. Instead, he kissed JC’s lips, touching his hand to JC’s cock and holding it, hard in his palm. 

“Um. Condoms?” Justin asked, and JC nodded. “Lube?” 

“I ran into the house while you were sleeping. I was being presumptuous,” JC confessed. Justin grinned at him. JC said _presumptuous_ with a bit of a lisp; he always had. It was a little thing Justin always seemed to notice, like also that JC always put his left shoe on first or that he always shook the salt shaker three times, no more, no less. 

JC got up and walked to get the stuff. Justin rolled onto his side and watched him, chewing on his lower lip in concentration. JC was lean but muscular, all legs, too. He moved like liquid, and of all of them, he was the only one without back problems or knee problems or whatever. When they were all crippled and useless, JC would still be dancing, elegant and beautiful to the end. Sometimes, Justin’s body felt really old. Not now, but sometimes. 

“Are you.” Justin cleared his throat. “Top or bottom?” 

JC looked over his shoulder, laughing. “Justin.” 

“I think I’m a bottom,” Justin announced loudly, bobbing his head to cement his declaration. JC had arched an eyebrow almost into his hairline, and Justin coughed again. “I mean. Not that I have, really, but I suspect I am. Like, there are indications.” 

“You don’t say,” JC said. 

Justin nodded. “I do. Seriously. I love it; I know already.” 

JC walked back, dick swaying between his legs. Justin wanted to put his mouth on it, to lick around the head and suck it in between his lips, but Justin supposed there was time enough for everything. They hadn’t talked about it, but Justin was pretty sure all of this meant JC was his new boyfriend. They’d talk about it later, though, because Justin didn’t want his delusions crushed, not while everything was so wonderful and mostly perfect. 

“Are you really a bottom, or are just saying that because you’re sure Lance is a bottom, and I, by default, have to be a top?” JC asked, saying it so quickly that it got all twisted in Justin’s mind. When it was untangled, Justin nodded to the first question and made a face at the second. “For your information, Lance is mostly a top, and so am I, but we both do whatever when the time calls for it. Okay?” 

“I am mostly a bottom,” Justin repeated. 

“If you’re sure,” JC said. 

“Fuck me already, please,” Justin replied. JC looked at him, eyes twinkling with amusement, and Justin grumbled, though he couldn’t help the flicker of a smile from twitching his lips. Instead, Justin spread his legs and waited as JC kneeled between them. Justin sat up and took the condom when JC held it out to him. It was slippery in his sweaty hands, but he got it open, the chemical smell of lube assaulting his nostrils. 

He went through the instructions in the head: make sure it’s not inside out, pinch the tip, roll it down. He stuck his tongue in the corner of his mouth as he did it, concentrating hard to get it right. It was probably the third millionth condom he’d ever put on, but never to someone else, and never when he was so excited. He got jittery when he was exhilarated. 

“Okay,” Justin said. “Done.” 

“You can’t take this back,” JC said. 

“Why would I want to?” Justin asked, legitimately puzzled. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting to take sex back from anyone. Even those girls whose names he couldn’t remember, or blabbermouth Brian, he never regretted anything, not even Britney. Well, he regretted other things with her, but definitely not the sex. “No, it’s good. I want this, with you. C’mon.” 

Justin watched as JC eventually nodded then lifted Justin’s legs, putting them on his shoulders. JC uncapped the lube then squirted a blob between Justin’s legs, and Justin jumped a bit, because while it wasn’t cold or anything, it felt weird, greasy and strange. Looking around, Justin noticed the plants in bloom and the condensation on the glass ceiling and the droop of the lilies. His portrait was still propped up, and Justin imagined JC worked into it, lying next to him. 

“Oh.” Justin squirmed a bit in surprise as JC sunk in a finger, long and wiggly. It didn’t hurt, though. Justin was convinced he was a bottom. It was just a sense he had. Also, in all his fantasies, when he had them, he was always the bottom. He’d never had the urge to screw Britney in the ass, which he knew would probably disappoint everyone to find out. Justin never liked the fact he was living out the fantasies of millions of dirty old men and oversexed teenagers. 

Two fingers was really nice. Justin was so hot already, sweating everywhere and soaking the cushion, and JC’s hair was dripping on his knees, curls completely drenched. Justin’s breathing was shallow because the air was too warm to pull it in any deeper, so he felt lightheaded as JC fucked him slowly with his fingers, twisting them around. Still didn’t hurt. Justin was a big bottom, this much was obvious to him. 

“I think you should do it now,” Justin said suddenly, his own hands plucking at his nipples and rubbing over his belly as he fought the urge to stroke his dick. It was achingly hard, dripping on his belly, but he was revelling in it right now, the feeling of tightness in his balls. “And kiss me while you do it, because that would be sexy.” 

“Okay,” JC said. 

Justin opened his mouth with a gasp when JC pushed in, big and hard, and JC captured the breath with his lips, a tongue stroking out to touch Justin’s in greeting. It didn’t hurt, at all, but it felt nothing like he thought it would. He’d poked around with fingers before, both him and his doctor – which was, like, the antithesis of sexy and Justin wasn’t sure why he was even thinking of it – but it wasn’t like this. Wasn’t so. Wow. 

“Wow,” Justin said, pausing the kiss, “this is really. Wow.” 

“I’m glad you like it,” JC replied and laughed into Justin’s mouth before catching it again with a searing kiss, licking at Justin’s lips and fluttering his hands over Justin’s sides before settling on his hips, holding him as JC thrust. Justin held onto his shoulders and kissed him, lifting his ass to take every slide of JC inside his body, to keep it all as deep as possible. 

The chair squeaked as they moved, the cushion sticking to Justin’s wet back, and the sprinklers came on with a burst, flinging drops of water over the thirsty plants. Justin laughed suddenly as it hit his face, cooling and wonderful, and JC kissed him harder, keeping the heat between them even as the water threatened a chill. 

Justin scratched his fingers down JC’s back then up again, rocking with every delicious thrust, and he thought, “oh gawd, oh gawd,” and swore he had to take this boy home to meet his mama, even when they’d met already, but now it was all incredibly different. JC blocked out the sun, light haloing his hair, and Justin tangled his hands in the curls, holding JC there, right there, against his mouth as Justin came with a note flowing through his throat, singing it out. 

JC was still moving, losing the graceful quality and replacing it with a desperate sort of twisting, a dance that Justin knew only on the most primitive levels. Sucking JC’s tongue into his mouth, Justin tightened his ass and kept pushing back, determined to have JC come in him, and they kept this up for a minute or two before JC threw back his head. Sweat hit Justin’s face as the sprinklers continued to water, but Justin could taste the difference between them and JC on his lips and swallowed them both. 

Afterwards, when Justin was still too lazy to move, JC curled up behind him, spooning them together with an arm secure around Justin’s belly. Justin was still breathing hard and lightheaded, though wasn’t so hot anymore since the entire house had cooled down with the water. With a jump, Justin looked up and made a small noise. 

“Your painting,” Justin said miserably. The paint had washed off the canvas and dripped down the legs of the wooden easel, mixing on the stone tiles. The only image left was that of a brown blob as everything mixed together. JC’s finest work of art, and it was gone. 

“I can paint another one,” JC murmured, mouthing behind Justin’s ear. 

“Are you sure?” Justin asked. It seemed like such a waste. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” 

Justin had to agree that he wasn’t. 

~~~ 

Justin gave up before he even tried when it came to hiding it from the guys. The next time he saw them, he was just going to tell them, or let JC do it. Lance already knew, and Joey was astute in a really strange way, so he probably figured something was happening. Chris was going to kick his ass or attempt it, but there was nothing Chris could do now to stop it. JC was worked up and hopeful, and Justin was happier than he’d been in weeks. It was no wonder, of course, that something had to ruin it when he woke up on Friday to find a magazine stuffed in his mail slot. JC was still sleeping. 

JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE CAUGHT IN GAY LIPLOCK. There was a picture of him and one of Britney’s dancers, kissing as people cheered in the background. It had happened, Justin couldn’t deny that, but Chris had offered him fifty bucks and new rims for his Jaguar if he did it. It wasn’t like that at all, but try telling that to the tabloids. 

Justin rubbed his temples. He could feel a migraine coming on, which would just ice the cake. His life officially sucked again. Britney sucked. If she could just let. it. go. Justin couldn’t apologise anymore for destroying her hopes of a dream marriage, and beautiful children, and everything. She would meet someone else. He wasn’t even a good catch. 

Justin called up Johnny and explained the problem. Deny, deny, deny, Johnny said. Justin numbly agreed then hung up, pulling himself out of the chair and dragging his ass to the fridge. He needed Gatorade, and he finished off the bottle, the salty-sweet taste causing his stomach to roll. Already, there were spots in his vision, speckles of light, so he lay down on the couch and pulled a blanket over his face. 

JC came down at some point and sat with the magazine – Justin could hear it rustling as he read through it – on the couch, pulling Justin’s legs over his lap and idly rubbing Justin’s belly. Justin dozed through it, the pain in his head blinding and awful, though he was beginning to feel a bit better between the artificial darkness and JC’s warm hand. 

“So you’re gay,” JC said. Justin could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Bi,” Justin muttered miserably. “She did this.” 

“I know.” JC bent over and lifted Justin’s shirt, pressing a warm kiss to his belly. “Don’t let it get you down, okay? Nobody ever believes stuff like this anyway. Probably, next appearance we have, Chris will kiss Joey or something. It’ll be fine. A kiss is just a kiss.” 

“She’s a psycho,” Justin mumbled. The blanket tasted terrible, but even the mere idea of light was making his head hurt more. He curled up a bit. “I have to move,” Justin added, keeping his voice low and steady. “She knows where I live. I have to pack up and move.” 

JC folded over him, nuzzling at the space between his shoulder blades until Justin untwisted, tugging the blanket off his face. His squinted, since it still hurt, and looked back at JC, whose hair was messy and standing up everywhere. Nobody ever really got to see JC when he was rawly beautiful, since he didn’t like when his hair puffed into a huge fro and was coiled into greasy knots. JC was still beautiful, regardless, but they all had images to maintain. Justin’s image was straight. 

“Fucking Chris and his bets,” Justin moaned, but he wasn’t really mad. Now, he was moving into pouting because he could. And irritated that his ex-girlfriend was a psycho hose-beast, which was an unfortunate development. Justin sighed deeply as JC petted him, hitting all his comfort spots, like the backs of his hands and the front of his neck. “My head hurts.” 

“Migraine?” JC asked. 

“Yeah,” Justin said then added, “ouch.” 

“I have some incense that might help. And massage techniques.” JC nudged Justin until they both fell off the couch. JC grinned against Justin’s neck, and Justin felt a little bit better, not a whole lot but enough that he smiled back and kissed him when he moved. “Come on. I’ll make you better. We’ll figure everything out, okay? Life is good.” 

“Okay,” Justin said. JC led him upstairs, and held his hand. 

~~~ 

They went to Chris’s house to watch the game, and Chris wouldn’t let Justin in the door, even though JC squeezed by. They’d been making out a bit on the porch, not obviously, more like they were whispering secrets, which was admittedly stupid, but they’d fucked before coming over, and Justin always felt clingy afterwards. 

“Justin,” Chris said, poking at his shoulder. “Justin.” 

“It’s good,” Justin promised, trying to get inside where JC was standing, waving at Joey in the kitchen, Justin could just see him. It might have been Lance, but the blob of person looked like it was too tall. Justin needed glasses, but he didn’t want to tell anyone he did. JC suspected, anyway, since that morning, Justin had accidentally hugged the coat-stand and JC caught him. 

Chris looked back at JC, who was having a dance off in the hallway with Joey, the two of them bumping their hips then grinding a bit, singing at each other. When Chris turned back, his mouth was pinched together, and he still looked suspicious but then he sighed. Justin relaxed as Chris dragged him into a headlock. 

“Dude. You do not listen to your elders. You suck,” Chris said, scrubbing his knuckles across Justin’s head until Justin was dizzy. When he was standing again, he walked into the wall, so Chris dragged him into the kitchen to get a beer. “Dude, I cannot believe you. All my advice, down the shitter, because you couldn’t resist C’s charm.” 

“He’s so dreamy,” Justin said, and Chris flicked him between the eyes. 

“Just don’t get caught. Again,” Chris said. He smirked and gestured to his fridge where JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE CAUGHT IN GAY LIPLOCK was taped up. Justin rolled his eyes as Chris danced gleefully in place. “Dude. I never imagined your ex-girlfriend would sell the pictures. I would have, like, I don’t know. Gotten you to strip down and fuck a cantaloupe while tap-dancing or something. Kissing a guy is so chic these days. I’m oddly disappointed.” 

Justin laughed and opened the fridge door, grabbing two beers. He opened both with the help of his tee-shirt then offered one to Chris, who immediately drank half. When Justin started to walk away, though, Chris grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and said, “we’re not done, Timberlake.” 

Justin sighed. “Stop being an ass.” 

Chris pinched Justin’s nose really, really hard. “You never listen to me.” 

“You’re so fucking depressing man,” Justin admitted, his voice even more nasally than usual. He tried to pull away, but that hurt, so he let Chris manhandle his nose, breathing heavily through his mouth to compensate. “Just because you don’t believe in happy endings, doesn’t mean I don’t.” 

Tweaking Justin’s nose one last time, Chris let go. “I call it realism.” 

“Be happy for me. He’s so good for me, man, so good,” Justin said, keeping his eyes on Chris’s, which were dark and hard to look at for too long, but it was the only way to make Chris see this wasn’t a terrible mistake. “I just. This is all I have right now. Him. It’s psychotic, I know, but dude, you have no idea.” 

Chris’s face darkened. “What do you mean?” 

“Britney’s just causing shit. I mean, it’s fine, but it’s stressful,” Justin said, looking at the wall instead. He was so lying, and Chris was so going to know it, too. Or half-lying. It was pretty stressful. Just thinking about it made Justin’s temples throb painfully, and if he said anything more, his head was going to pop off his shoulders, so he bit his lips and didn’t elaborate. 

“I can talk to her.” 

Justin snapped his head in Chris’s direction. “No way, man. No fucking _way_.” 

“But I –” 

“Dude, you got me banned from Red Lobster _and_ T.G.I. Friday’s. And the Kentucky Fried, down the road from our houses. No way, Chris. Just. Don’t even think about it, okay?” Justin was two steps from grabbing Chris by the shoulders and shaking hard. 

Chris’s temper was terrible, especially when he thought someone under his wing was getting screwed over. Justin had seen Chris beat the shit out of one of Molly’s ex-boyfriends after Chris found out he cheated on her and gave her an STD, and watched him do the same to one of Lance’s boyfriends. Chris was banned from almost ten restaurants and four bars in Orlando alone, which pissed Johnny off because he always had to pay a lot of people to keep it out of the news. Normally, Chris was a cool guy, but when he got mad on someone else’s behalf, it all went to shit. Justin appreciated the concern, but no. 

Chris regarded Justin for a long time before nodding abruptly, a quick dip of his chin. Justin started breathing again, not even aware he’d been holding the air in his lungs until it whistled out of him. There was an awkward moment between them, just a space where they both realised the topic was now in the do-not-talk-about-it area and didn’t know what the new topic was going to be, but then Justin was on his back, with Chris thumping the ground as he counted down. By the time Joey and JC showed up to peel them off each other, Justin was losing the wrestling match by three throwdowns and one wet willy. 

~~~ 

Justin no longer wore his shirt around the house, because JC said his chest was “fabulously chiselled” and he liked to have easy access to Justin’s nipples. Justin tried to use the same reasoning to make sure JC never wore pants – “your cock is deliciously suckable” – but JC just laughed at him and worried about unannounced guests. 

Justin turned on MTV as he started on dinner, trying something fancy out of a book for once in his young life. He didn’t understand what he was making, but JC would be impressed if it all worked out. If it didn’t, they’d order in take-out or something, but Justin was sure it would be great if he just stared at the page long enough and mentally pictured the meal he wanted. 

Carson Daly was rambling on about something, and Justin half-listened, having spent many years learning how to tune him out. The only one who really listened to him was Lance. The rest of them just chattered at each other, until Carson was driven nuts and hated them all, even Lance by default. It was the highlight of any TRL appearance. 

“Oh, yeah. _Him_.” 

“Fuck,” Justin said, looking up. It would figure. Britney and Carson, together, the one day he turned on the tube for some mindless entertainment. Most of him wanted to turn it off, but Justin – unlike JC – liked to know what people were saying about him. Even it was hurtful, or backhanded, or just plain mean. 

Britney’s giggle was light and airy. Like her head, Justin thought, then laughed with himself, chopping carrots. And her boobs were fake, too. And she couldn’t spell, and said words like “funner.” Justin conveniently forgot JC’s use of the word “unperfect” because, well, JC wasn’t in the position of screwing him over. Just screwing him. Justin laughed again. Sometimes, he was just too funny. 

“Yeah, that’s one of my dancers.” Britney giggled again, and Justin felt a twirl of nervousness go through his belly. He shook his head helplessly. “It was party thing. Justin always liked to party. I was there, too. So.” She giggled. “I don’t know. It’s silly.” 

“C’mon, you can tell us, Britney. Is Justin a bit. you know.” Carson flopped around his wrist. “The American people are dying to know.” 

Justin thought he was having a heart attack because the room was suddenly spinning, and he was breathing hard. Everything hurt, too, especially his head. Slicing his finger instead of the carrot was just a little thing, though he sucked it into his mouth to avoid bleeding all over the floor. On screen, Britney shrugged. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t know for sure, really.” She grinned and flipped her hair, and Justin watched as Carson melted into a puddle on the floor, dazzled by all the tit she was flashing, no doubt. Justin hated them both so much. “We’re virgins.” 

“Oh, fuck you!” Justin shouted, pointing accusingly at the television screen, and she was laughing at him, he could tell, because she laughed at a lot of people and he used to be right there with her. He recognised the gleam in her eyes. “I’ve been fucking you for two years!” 

“Justin?” JC asked from the doorway. “Oh my god, what did you do?” 

“Huh?” Justin asked, blinking at him. JC was covered in paint, with his hair tied up in two small pigtails to keep it out of his eyes. JC looked bizarre but beautiful. “The television. It’s telling lies, Jayce. And my carrots,” Justin said mournfully. They were covered in blood. 

“Your finger, man. C’mon. I have to take you to the hospital.” 

“But Britney,” Justin said, “the television. My _carrots_.” 

“It’s hanging by a thread, man. Oh my god. Where are your tea towels?” JC sounded frantic, digging through one of Justin’s drawers until he found one and wrapped it around Justin’s finger, but Justin felt oddly calm, if not a bit lightheaded and dizzy. Justin couldn’t feel any of his fingers. “Can you walk? God, Justin. That’s. C’mon, c’mon. Bleeding.” 

“I love you,” Justin said and then he passed out. 

~~~ 

Justin returned home with a mangled finger and a freaked out JC, who’d fainted in the hospital when they’d stuck a needle in Justin’s hand to freeze it. Lance and Justin picked them up, and Lance drove JC’s car as Justin took him and JC home, both of them slumped over each other in the backseat. Justin was just tired and achy; JC was still panicky and worked up. 

“Are you two okay?” Justin asked. Justin could see his green eyes in the rearview mirror, so he nodded because he was fine, and JC just needed to calm down. Mostly, Justin was mellow, but Chris was right, getting JC worked up was always a bit dangerous. With Justin’s uninjured hand, he petted JC softly, snuffling into his hair. He smelled so good. 

At the house, Justin carried JC in because his legs were wobbly. Justin was a huge monster of a man and could do stuff like that. If Justin hadn’t been injured, he would have done it instead, but he let Lance’s boyfriend take care of JC instead. Justin was feeling sucky and didn’t feel comfortable doing it around Justin, so he was glad when they disappeared through the door. 

“She outed me on TRL, man. Even worse than JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE CAUGHT IN GAY LIPLOCK,” Justin said sadly. It was a good thing he had sunglasses on. He was pretty weepy – emotionally wrought, JC would say – but his head was hurting again, too. “And I’m not even gay. I’m bi. And she doesn’t even know that. She’s just being an asshole. It’s so tragic.” 

Lance ruffled Justin’s hair then helped him out of the car, careful of Justin’s bandaged finger. Justin looked at it and sighed deeply. It was going to be so ugly and scarred, which was nothing, he realised, it was only a finger, but it was _his_ finger, and now he was going to forever associate it with Britney. That sucked. Profoundly. 

“Justin. You have to start fighting back,” Lance said quietly. “Between Chris and I –” 

“No,” Justin said, shaking his head. He almost toppled forward with the movement, especially when the flashing lights started, but he grabbed onto Lance, fisting his hands in his sleeves. Lance was steady like a rock. “No. It’s fine. I can handle it.” 

Lance started dragging Justin into the house, with Justin trying to help, but he was full of drugs, and everything was hurting now: his hand, his head, his heart. Which was lame, but Justin still loved her a little bit and couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to tell anybody that, though, not even when Lance said, “just stand up for yourself, okay? You don’t owe her anything.” 

“My finger,” Justin said pitifully and wiggled it. 

Lance accepted the change of topic and didn’t say anything more. 

~~~ 

Justin was in a quandary that he couldn’t seem to get himself out of, but Britney hadn’t done anything else recently, so Justin hoped that the time for screwing him over had passed. Chris had done precisely what JC said he would do and kissed Joey on the next public appearance, grabbing Joey by the ears and slipping him the tongue. Joey, it turned out, hadn’t been informed of the manoeuver but was grateful that Chris had brushed his teeth beforehand. 

“Only the best for you, Joe,” Chris said and slapped his ass. Justin suspected it was the most action Chris had gotten in months, since he’d somehow decided he was a celibate after the debacle with Michelle, which ended with her taking scissors to every FuMan gift Chris had ever bestowed upon her. Justin was beginning to suspect they were all terrible with girls, which explained why Lance was practically married. 

Justin signed off on the house. Did it when JC was out, and did it in the bathroom. He kept thinking, sellout, but it was really only a house. If JC ever suggested they move in together, Justin was going to fight it tooth and nail. It was fine so long as they lived in sin, moving from Justin’s place to JC’s place and back again, but the minute money got involved, it was all downhill from there. Others things that Justin didn’t plan on ever doing with JC included discussing marriage, however symbolic, or breaking up with him over the phone. 

Lance and Justin went to see strippers together. Female strippers. Lance got so drunk that he turned almost-straight and got into the whipped cream, but by the end of the night, Lance was in the bathroom, alternately puking and telling Justin how _his_ Justin was the best man he’d ever met, and Lance’s parents loved him, and that Lance bought him a ring, which was girlish and silly, but he just loved him so much. Lonnie drove them home. 

Justin woke up JC, though he tried to be quiet. He tripped over a pair of pants and smacked into the wall, his finger – which was all gimpy and still stitched together – getting caught in the crossfire. JC sat up with a jolt then peered at Justin curiously. Justin smiled and crawled over to kiss JC’s belly, lingering on the warm plane of muscle before dipping lower. 

“Mm.” JC hummed when he was being blown, and touched his own nipples – he was a big nipple man, but Justin certainly wasn’t complaining – with long fingers, plucking and pulling and twisting. Or he’d palm his own stomach, spreading his fingers into a vee and sliding them down until they edged around his own cock, bumping Justin’s lips. Sometimes, Justin took the fingers into his mouth and sucked; sometimes, he kept with the cock and swallowed it deep. Whatever he did, it was always so hot that Justin could hardly stand it. Part of Justin wished that he’d skipped over Britney entirely and just gone for JC so many years ago. 

This time, JC played with his own chest, rubbing and rolling as Justin blew him, keeping JC’s thigh over his shoulder as Justin kneeled on the ground, leaning against the bed where JC was spread like a star, clutching at the sheets. “Mm,” JC hummed and shimmied his hips. Justin was torn between sucking JC until he came and climbing up to straddle him. 

Justin was feeling needy, though, so he opted for the latter. JC didn’t seem to mind; he just loved sex, whatever way he got it. Male, female, his own hand, JC didn’t seem to care; top, bottom, watching – edited porn on tv, overpriced porn videos, the hentai stuff Chris liked. Justin wasn’t used to having sex without a list of rules, but he was learning. 

Justin put a condom on JC then drizzled lube over him as JC propped himself up on his elbows to watch. JC made the preparatory stuff sexy, though they was nothing more intimate than having his lover slide the rubber down on him or rubbing the Astroglide over his dick. Justin was more than happy to oblige; he needed any excuse to touch JC. 

They fell off the bed mid-fucking, due to Justin bumping down on him and grinding his hips in circles and bouncing a bit, too. JC lost his grip, and they tumbled onto the carpet, separating for one long second, then Justin’s legs were over JC’s shoulders as JC slid back in, fast and hard. “Fuck,” Justin groaned; JC was right up against his prostate, which was a beautiful thing indeed. 

Justin came when JC peppered kisses over his mangled finger. It was so fucking sweet, and JC was careful to keep any saliva off it, just nuzzled it with his nose and mouthed it with dry lips. Justin hadn’t been scarred before, so he’d been feeling a bit ugly about it. So he came because it was oddly hot, and JC was just such a sweet guy. Justin undulated his hips until JC was panting and squirming and coming, eyes pinched tightly shut. 

“Poor finger,” JC said later, when they’d cleaned up and climbed into bed. Justin was nestled between JC’s legs, a hand over his shoulder for JC to play with. JC stroked his own fingers over Justin’s, softly and carefully. He kissed the tip then let Justin take it back, moving to play with Justin’s hair instead. “You okay, J?” 

“Mm-hm,” Justin said. His eyes drooped. 

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” JC asked. 

“Of course. Things are fine,” Justin assured him, patting his knee. It was boney and hairy under his palm but warm, so Justin kept his hand there, holding himself steady. He was slowly slipping into a puddle of sated goo, sleep lingering at the edges of his consciousness. “Life is good, right? I’m fine.” 

“You seem unhappy,” JC said. 

Justin was half asleep, but he rolled his head around, murmuring, “I’m not. Really.” 

JC breathed into his hair, mouth tucked against the curls and half open, and Justin snuggled into his arms, breathing deeply as he settled there, comfortable. He nodded again, just so JC understood that Justin was so happy with him that Justin couldn’t even describe it. 

~~~ 

Justin missed his coat. It was his one piece of comfort clothing that he used to sit in when he was depressed or whatever. Joey had his Brooklyn tee-shirt, and Chris had a ratty old pair of boxers he bought in the early nineties. Lance had his rainbow socks, which was pretty radical for a guy who wouldn’t wear white socks after Labour Day. JC said his comfort clothing was his own skin and would sit around naked, doing casual things. For Justin, it was all about his coat, and it still hadn’t come back from the cleaners. It probably wasn’t going to. 

But he needed it. Another letter from Britney’s lawyers sat on the coffee table, unfolded and bleak. And he needed a drink, or something. He chewed at his finger, idly wondering if it would hurt to tear the stitches out. Probably. It probably would hurt a lot. Slowly, Justin reached over and picked up the letter again. It hadn’t changed. He folded it up and stuck it in his pocket as he stood, grabbing for his keys. Behind him, the phone kept ringing. It’d been ringing for hours. He knew who it was. He wasn’t going to talk to her. 

He drove to Joey’s place after leaving a scribbled note for JC in case he showed up. Joey answered the door, looking tired and worn down, a tiny pair of Osh Kosh overalls in his hands. Behind him, Brianna was standing at the fence to the upstairs, curly hair tied up in bows. 

“Can I steal her for a few hours?” Justin asked quietly. He stared at his own feet, watching his toes wriggle in the sandals. “We can just play in the backyard, or something. The new sandbox. And I’ll make her lunch. I promise.” 

Joey nodded. “Sure, man. Whatever makes you happy. You all right?” 

Justin shrugged then ignored any further comments, just picked up Brianna, who was more than willing to go with him. She lifted her arms then circled them around Justin’s neck, blowing bubbles at him. Justin paused only once as Joey said, “make sure she’s wearing sunscreen, all right? Kelly will kill me if I toast the kid.” 

Outside, the sun was bright, pinned high in the sky. Brianna scrunched up her face and squinted, so Justin walked back inside with her to get her a hat. She tried to wiggle out of it, but the elastic was too much for her to understand, and she started pulling on Justin’s lips instead as he slathered her with lotion, her baby-fat arms reaching for his face. 

They played on the grass for a while, with Brianna eating far too much of it. Justin ate a bit, too. It tasted like lettuce. Midway through, he called inside to make sure Joey didn’t use pesticides. He didn’t, thankfully, since Brianna’s tastes extended to greenery, like lawns and household plants. They rolled around some more, squealing and laughing. 

Justin scrambled after her on all fours, slopping his tongue around, and she shrieked loudly enough that Joey came out to check on them. “We’re fine,” Justin assured him, trying to look innocent. Brianna stuck her fingers in his mouth, and he pulled them out. “We’re just chilling.” 

“Timberlake, if you break my kid,” Joey warned. 

“I won’t,” Justin said, “promise.” 

Justin made sandcastles then helped Brianna step all over them, holding her hands in his as she toddled unsteadily, squishing her toes into the cool sand. The dirt stuck to her skin, held on by the sunscreen, but she didn’t seem to care about being filthy. A few times, she started eating it, but Justin pulled her fingers out of her mouth and shook his head. She scrunched up her face then stuck her index finger in Justin’s nostril. Laughing, he tickled her until she screeched. 

They napped on the lawn, Brianna tucked against Justin’s chest as he held her, arm folded over her back. She whistled while she slept, thumb in her mouth, and Justin stared at the clouds. He didn’t lift his head when Joey and JC came out. Justin barely even noticed, except to think that Joey was a big fat narc who ratted him out. 

They let him lie there until Brianna woke up with a squeak, and Joey took her inside for lunch. It was late in the afternoon, Justin realised, and he hadn’t fed her, even though he promised he would. Justin put his arm over his eyes and sighed. Nothing seemed to be going right, and Justin couldn’t figure out why. He wasn’t a stupid guy, or at least he hadn’t thought he was until now. 

“I tried calling, but the phone was busy, and your cell was off,” JC said, settling down next to Justin and resting his head on Justin’s chest. Idly, Justin lifted his hand to play with his hair and to hold him there, against him, where JC was solid and real. 

“Britney called. Then kept calling. I didn’t want to answer,” Justin admitted then reached down into his pocket, fishing for the letter he’d received, courier of course. He unfolded it one-handed then gave it to JC, who lifted his head to read it. 

“How much did you pay for this house?” JC asked when he was done, folding it back up and tucking it into Justin’s pocket, lingering his fingers on Justin’s hip before sliding them up to touch his side under the shirt. “J?” 

“More than that. A lot more.” Justin kept his eyes closed. This was all really humiliating. 

“How much is a lot?” JC asked. Against him, Justin could feel JC vibrating. He was getting mad again, which sucked so hard. JC didn’t _get_ mad, or he hadn’t, until Britney decided to fuck Justin over. It was all such a big mess, and Justin was feeling the bitter nip of defeat in his stomach. That, and absolute stupidity. “Justin, how much is a lot?” 

“About a million more,” Justin muttered. He thought about lying to JC, but JC always found out about lies and took them personally, which Justin wanted to avoid. The last thing Justin really needed was for JC to hate him, too. And write mean-spirited songs about him like JC had done with Bobbie. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

JC was up suddenly and fluttering around, a hand twisted in Justin’s shirt and pulling at him helplessly. Justin folded his fingers around JC’s wrist but didn’t do much else. He thought about staring at the sun, feeling a bit self-destructive, but decided just to get drunk somewhere with Lance, probably the strip club. It was a boobie night. 

“We can –” 

“I signed something,” Justin said. “I can’t do anything, because I signed something.” 

“You. Justin, you’re not supposed to sign anything without –” 

“I know!” Justin shouted suddenly, loud and angry, with a clenched fist waving through the air. JC let go of his shirt and moved away, and Justin knew he’d done it, totally fucked up everything again. He wanted to pull his own hair out, strand by strand, then punch himself in the face. Or something. He wasn’t sure. But it wasn’t going to be nice. “I thought I understood it.” 

JC stayed away but offered a, “we all think we understand things that we don’t. Like Chris.” 

“Chris,” Justin repeated. They weren’t allowed to talk about that, about Chris and things he thought he understood, signing with Transcon being the big one. Pretty much everything in the first years had been Chris signing things he thought he understood and talking the rest of them into it because Chris had to be right, and Justin would never have believed otherwise. 

“I didn’t mean that badly, or anything. I never blamed him. We all do things, Justin, to solve problems. I don’t know what I’m saying, really,” JC admitted and shrugged. JC started picking at the grass, tugging it out piece by piece as Justin went to work on his own finger, chewing at the nail and wanting the stitches gone. It didn’t even work right anymore. It barely moved. 

“Maybe I can talk to my lawyers,” Justin said. It was a peace offering; Justin hated his lawyers, and JC knew it. “Maybe play the I’m-stupid card.” 

“You’re not stupid. You’re young, that’s it.” JC edged nearer, and Justin was really regretting the fact he had yelled at him. Justin wanted JC to hold him, and kiss him, and do other sweet stuff that Justin couldn’t seem to just ask for. “That’s a lot of money, Justin.” 

Justin nodded. It was a lot. He had more money than that, but he was scared of having any less. They all were. Justin owned three hundred pairs of sneakers, but they’d all been bought on sale. And two of his cars were used, and he still used coupons when he remembered. Justin remembered having no money, especially around the lawsuit, and he was terrified of ending up like MC Hammer. They all joked about it, but they were dead serious, too. 

“Please let us help you,” JC said quietly. He started to reach out his hand, so Justin grabbed it before it really moved at all. He didn’t want JC to change his mind and not touch him, so he took the first opportunity presented. JC’s hands were so beautiful, boney and thin but long reaching, like they could fold around the world and hold it protectively. Cold, too. JC’s fingers were always like ice. 

“There’s nothing you can do. Any of us can do. Like, what are we going to say? Britney’s just mad, and I understand it. I dumped her, and she’s pissed off. We were going to get married, you know. Like, next year. I bought a ring and everything. We had plans,” Justin said. He felt dirty talking about Britney while touching JC, but JC didn’t try to let go. 

“Justin, what she’s doing. It’s too much. She’s not just angry, she’s.” JC paused and tugged on Justin’s arm until Justin met his eyes. Justin hadn’t even noticed he’d been staring at the sky again. “She’s trying to hurt you, and that’s not acceptable. You don’t deserve it.” 

Justin sighed and shrugged, feeling helpless and stupid. He was a man, and at twenty-one he wasn’t really that young, not anymore, and he’d dealt with people who wanted to fuck him over before. But this was, this just wasn’t working like he wanted it, too. Maybe he underestimated Britney, or maybe he thought she’d never really try to hurt him. Maybe there were a lot of reasons, none of which helped him much at all. 

“I’ll take care of it,” JC said, and Justin nodded. 

He didn’t believe it, but it was nice of him to offer, anyway. 

~~~ 

They ended up at some industry function that involved suits and ties and fancy chicken dinners which always tasted like ass. Famous people milled around, wearing really expensive jewellery that they rented for the evening and drinking free alcohol from the bar. Justin usually liked these things, enjoyed himself, but he wasn’t in the mood. Britney was sitting across the room with her new boyfriend and having a grand old time showing him off. Part of Justin wanted to show off his sparkly new boyfriend, who was off with Joey, chatting to Moby. Whatever they were discussing had JC excited. He was doing most of the talking with his hands. But Justin knew he couldn’t brag to anyone. Screw her anyway, he thought miserably. 

“Dude, you need a drink,” Chris said, sliding a rum and coke over to Justin, who lowered his head to sip at it through the skinny straw. Chris slapped him hard a few times on the back, which sent the straw up Justin’s nose more than once, but Justin was too depressed to do much about it. “Listen, J. She’s not worth it.” 

“I know that. I’m over her. It’s just.” Justin sighed deeply. “I hate that she looks happy. And I don’t. Tomorrow, when those fucking tabloids get wind of this, it’s going to be all over the papers. She’s such a fuck, Chris. All these mind games, and everything.” 

Chris squeezed the back of Justin’s neck, shaking him a bit. “I wish you’d let me avenge you, man. Like, seriously. Anyone who fucks with you, fucks with me, too. I can jump her boy-toy in the bathroom. Knee him in the jewels or something. Poke him in the eye. Call him names.” 

“Chris, no,” Justin said, but he was smiling because he couldn’t help it. The reality was that Chris would punch Britney’s boyfriend in the face until he was half-conscious, snorting blood and missing teeth, but the idea of Chris doing something fancy just for Justin’s sake was a funny one. “It’s all right. I’m good.” 

“JC says your lawyers are getting your money back,” Chris said. He started tapping his fingers on the table like he always did when they talked about finances. Justin nodded. “Well, that’s good, right? You can treat us to pizza and beer the next time we come over.” Chris had bought them all pizza and beer for a month after the lawsuit settled and they finally started getting paid for being Nsync. Justin hated that Chris remembered doing that. 

Lance wandered back to the table, with Justin close behind him. Justin, according to all reports, was an old friend of Lance’s whom he’d met at a retreat for work-a-holics, and he was now doing promotion for them, which included being present for public appearances. To Justin, it sounded pretty obvious, but nobody seemed to question it, and Lance was sober and happy, which was more than Justin could say for himself. 

Joey and JC came back, too. JC sat beside Justin and smiled at him brightly. Under the tablecloth, JC ran a warm hand up the inside of Justin’s leg and squeezed his dick, just once, to get him all worked up. Justin scrunched up his nose, and JC laughed, strange and squawky. 

One of the servers came over with a drink and set it down in front of Justin with an explanatory, “from Ms. Spears.” Justin stared at it then pushed it away, looking for another server to take it away, but there didn’t seem to be any around. Justin wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe it was a sex-on-the-beach, which pissed him off more. Justin had first slept with Britney on a beach, at some Jive party, where they’d both snuck away and done it hidden only by trees, despite the fact they could have been caught. Justin had lifted her dress, pulled down her panties, and fucked her fast. They were both drunk, despite being underage. 

“I’ll get rid of it,” JC said. He pushed back his chair and picked up the drink, and Justin was almost embarrassed that his boyfriend had to step in – again – to save him from his ex-girlfriend’s mindfucks. JC walked straight into the kitchen and disappeared from sight. 

Justin cut a piece of chicken and put it into his mouth, chewing slowly because it tasted like sawdust. He listened to Joey and Chris bicker over whose wine it was that Chris had just gulped down in one mouthful. They all knew it was Joey’s, but Chris liked to argue points just for the sake of being difficult. It ended with Joey drinking all of Chris’s rum and coke, much to Chris’s chagrin. A server arrived with champagne, which shut them both up, and Justin was glad for it. They were giving him a headache. 

“Oh my fucking good god!” Chris said suddenly, already up in his seat and clapping, which knocked over his champagne onto Joey, who barely seemed to notice, just continued to stare slack-jawed at whatever it was that caught Chris’s attention. “Whoa! JC’s on fire. You work it, baby!” 

Justin turned around in his seat and bit his own cheek. JC was at Britney’s table, and though Justin couldn’t make sense of what they were saying to each other, from the way JC was throwing his arms around and the sheer volume of his voice, it looked like he was telling her off. Whatever it was, she was soaked to the bone, the little paper umbrella stuck to her head. JC still had the glass in his hand, empty now as he held it and waved it around. Justin watched in horror as Britney started to stand. 

“Oh, she goes for the hair! And oh my god, so does he!” Chris shouted gleefully then reeled back, falling into Joey’s lap. Joey was still staring, like he didn’t believe it, and Justin didn’t blame him. Britney and JC had their hands buried in each other’s hair, and they were screeching now, though Justin still couldn’t understand a word of it. His head was thumping, the blood rushing like quicksilver through his ears, loud and roaring, so he thought maybe that was why he could barely hear anything beyond Chris’s delighted cries. “And ha! Look at that! The lady has extensions! You show her who’s boss, C! Woo!” 

It was so bizarre that everyone else in the room seemed frozen as Britney and JC screamed at each other. JC had a clump of fake blonde hair in his fist, but Britney’s hand was still attached to his head, and she was pulling him around as he tried to step on her toes. Justin hadn’t _ever_ seen JC fight and could finally understand why JC didn’t. It absolutely absurd the way JC went about it. 

“Can someone stop him, please?” Justin asked quietly. 

Joey was up and out of his chair, working on autopilot as Lance followed him. Grabbing JC by the waist as Lance tried to pry Britney’s hand out of his curls, Joey lifted JC right off the ground, but then Britney’s boyfriend punched Lance in the face, and Joey was on him instead. Lance fell into Lil Kim’s table and got a face full of boob. 

Britney and JC settled on screaming at each other, and Justin was pretty sure by now that they weren’t speaking English, just making a whole lot of noise. Chris jumped out of his chair, to fight or to save, Justin wasn’t sure, so he grabbed Chris before he got any further, twisting him back into his seat. Joey and Britney’s boyfriend had stopped fighting, the both of them on the ground, Joey pressing a hand to his nose while it bled everywhere. 

Justin’s temples were throbbing again, so he took another drink and thought of ways to escape. Joey returned to the table with JC under his arm, still red in the face and spluttering, and Lance on his other side, the left half of his face all mashed up. Justin was already taking ice cubes out of his water and putting them into a napkin by the time Lance sat down. Joey handed JC to Justin then plopped down in his seat, going for any alcohol he could reach. 

“Well, that was fun,” Joey said, accepting the glass Chris handed to him. 

JC continued to fume, stabbing at his chicken and shaking his head, and Justin wasn’t sure if he was horrified or proud of him. Justin couldn’t quite muster the energy to be mad at JC, not with Britney’s extensions sitting on the table, tangled like ugly blonde snakes. It was like a victory prize. Justin felt oddly satisfied. 

~~~ 

Justin went to get his stitches taken out. The doctor gave him a list of finger exercises to do but said it’d be fine in time, just that Justin should avoid doing it again in the near future. It didn’t heal too badly, Justin thought, though it’d never go away. He vowed he wouldn’t make fancy dinners for JC while watching TRL again, that much was for sure. 

JC met him outside, a bag tucked under his arm and a smaller one in his hands, full of condoms and lube, no doubt. Justin still suffered from embarrassment when buying all of that stuff, especially now that the world was completely sure that he was no longer with Britney. Justin was tight-lipped over who he was sleeping with because it was, night after night, JC. Justin was madly in love with him but hadn’t said it yet. At least, not sober. 

“Look. I made the front cover,” JC said, holding out a magazine. BRITNEY AND JC BATTLE FOR JUSTIN’S LOVE. There was a really terrible picture of JC getting his hair pulled, right before he started fighting back, covering the entire spread. Justin thought he could see himself in the blurry background, but for the most part, it was his past and his future battling it out. It was wonderfully symbolic, and JC had won. “There’s an article, too. It’s a bit off-base, but funny. They call me JC Chavez.” 

“Johnny is going to kill you,” Justin said, flipping it open to look at the montage of pictures. Someone had actually caught JC’s initial dumping of the drink and the expression of surprise on Britney’s face. It was a beautiful moment. Justin was going to cut it out and put it up on the fridge. JC’s first public fight, and he’d done it with a girl. There would probably be more of an uproar over that than anything else. And JC had apologised the next day out of guilt, which almost defeated the purpose but not quite. Britney hung up on him. 

“It’ll be fine,” JC said, shrugging. 

“So you keep saying,” Justin said and smiled. They walked together – or rather, took a few steps, danced a bit, took a few more steps then JC bumped his hips with Justin’s until he almost tipped over and darted away, grinning and dancing some more – to Justin’s Harley, which sat there glimmering in the sun. “Did you get lunch?” 

“Pitas,” JC replied, holding up the bag and rattling it. Condoms, lube and pitas, Justin amended in his head as he climbed onto the bike, the leather of the seat hot between his legs. JC grinned at him. “Take me some place secluded and romantic, stud.” 

“Hop on, man.” Justin put on his helmet, sliding forward so JC could settle. He was hard, cock wedged against Justin’s ass, and Justin grinned to himself, wiggling a bit to say hello. Squeezing his shoulders, JC laughed loudly and reached for his own helmet. Once it was on, he circled Justin’s waist with his arms and hugged him. Justin thought he was in serious danger of bursting from love, so he pulled out of the parking instead. Behind him, JC stayed relaxed and loose. Anyone else, Justin would have forgotten they were there, but it was impossible with JC. Just by existing, Justin was aware of him and everything about him. It went that deep. 

Justin took JC to the most private spot he could find, a little patch of grass by water which was far enough off the road that no one would even know they were there. Justin wasn’t sure why he knew about it, but he did, and it was perfect. JC settled into the long grass, spreading out and sighing happily, and Justin folded over him, lifting his face to nuzzle a smile under JC’s neck. It was stubbly, rough and warm, and JC tasted like oranges. 

They lay there for a while, sunbathing, until JC’s stomach growled, and Justin’s offered a desperate response. Everything was so peaceful, so quiet, that Justin felt happier than he had in months, completely comfortable in the world. The unbearable heat was finally dying down too, the heatwave passing at least for a little while. Justin hoped it would rain soon. 

After the pitas were eaten, they kissed a bit in the grass, giddy with the thought of being discovered. No one would, of course, but there was always that threat, but they didn’t do it for long. JC chickened out and took the bigger bag he’d been holding back at the doctor’s office off the back of the bike, bringing it to Justin. 

“Here,” JC said, holding it out to him. 

Justin took it and opened the sack, peering inside before pulling out a yellow leather jacket, neatly folded with a tag tucked in the front pocket. When Justin pulled it out, it simply said his name, and he looked at it, rubbing the leather between his fingers. 

“They couldn’t get it out. The marker. So I had them make a new one. It’s not the same, but it was the best I could do.” JC picked up the sleeve and tugged at it, face downcast, and when Justin tucked a finger under his chin to lift his head, JC looked positively miserable. Justin didn’t understand at all. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” The jacket was heavy on Justin’s lap. 

“I don’t know,” JC admitted, “but I feel it. The regret. Right here.” JC touched his own belly, spreading his fingers out on his thin tee-shirt and lifting it until a sliver of skin peeked out above the waistband of his jeans. Justin’s tongue ached to trace the arc of flesh, not having tasted it since yesterday morning, which was far too long ago. “I’m just sorry.” 

“That regret? It’s mine. You’re feeling it for me, and I should probably apologise for it, but you’ve. Jayce, you’ve done everything right. Everything, I promise.” Justin kissed him softly on the lips as he leaned over, using a hand on JC’s thigh to steady himself. “And this coat. It’s a new one, you know, a clean slate. That’s better. Starting over.” 

“It might not even fit right,” JC said. 

“You wanna bet?” Justin asked, grinning. Quickly, he shrugged into the coat, the leather stiff and new, but a few days of wear would work that right out. It smelled wonderful, and he sniffed at it, lifting his shoulder so he could nuzzle it with his cheek. “See, Jayce. It’s perfect.” 

JC regarded him suspiciously then smiled, bright as the sun. “Gimme your finger. Left one,” JC said, holding out his own hand, and his fingers circled Justin’s fist as he examined Justin’s scar, mouth pinched tightly shut. “Is it okay?” 

“Totally,” Justin said. He wiggled it, even though it barely moved, but he had exercises for that, which would hopefully give him back full mobility. He didn’t really use his left index finger, except to play guitar, and that was pretty important, but he tried not to let it worry him. “Sealed and healed, baby.” 

“Good,” JC said and wrapped his tongue around it, sucking the length of finger into his mouth. Immediately, Justin was hard against his jeans. Having gone without underwear, his cock was pressed up against the zipper, which was not entirely comfortable, but Justin couldn’t complain, not as JC licked and swallowed, eyes fluttering half-closed. 

It occurred to Justin that any thoughts he’d had of associating that one finger with Britney were erased with the first swipe of JC’s determined tongue, and every swipe afterwards resulted in little shoots of pleasure down Justin’s spine, pooling between his legs. By the time JC pulled back, Justin was dizzy and hot again, breathing sharply through his nose. 

“Lean back,” JC whispered, “we gotta be quick. I don’t want to get caught.” 

Justin reclined, spreading his legs open and keeping himself propped up with two bent arms, elbows digging into the soft earth. JC’s hands worked at his zipper, tugging it slowly down, and JC looked up, grinning, when it became obvious Justin had no underwear on. His cock bobbed out when the jeans were finally spread open, flopping back to rest on his belly. JC spread his hand over it then put his mouth against the skin, sliding a wet tongue over the length. Justin shuddered hard, throwing back his head and feeling the sun on his face. 

Inside JC’s mouth was always like molten lava, almost too hot for Justin to handle, but it was beautiful, too. To trust someone’s mouth so near to such an important part of him, to let himself go inside where there were sharp teeth, Justin was almost glad Britney hadn’t done it for him. It was JC’s and JC’s alone, this right to be so close, to accept such trust. And JC seemed to honestly like it and like doing it, which mattered the most to Justin. He didn’t like feeling as though he was unwanted or, worse, hated. 

Justin arched, bracing his heels in the ground as he wiggled and panted, trying to delay the inevitable. He didn’t want it to end, he never did, but he came hard anyway, throwing his head back into the pillow of lush grass. He could feel JC swallowing, hands still moving like water over Justin’s cock, until Justin was spent. It took him a moment or two to remember how to sit up, but when he did, he tugged JC by the hips until he was kneeling in front of Justin’s face, the outline of his cock beautiful against the front of his jeans. 

“I’ll be quick, too,” Justin promised, grinning and waggling his tongue. JC laughed, pressing his hand to his mouth and leaning against Justin, just a little bit, the slightest press of thigh against Justin’s arms, but it was enough to remind Justin of the task at hand. Slowly, he opened JC’s jeans, button by button, then took him into his mouth. 

Justin sucked with great determination, his stomach muscles working as he tried to keep both hands at JC’s cock, stroking in tandem, but it was impossible. He had to settle for digging one elbow into the earth, the other simply holding JC’s cock as Justin swallowed him down, pulling back and forth with his lips folded over his teeth. JC was humming like a harmonica, rocking back and forth with his head dipped, hair veiling his face. Abandoning the base of JC’s dick, Justin slid his palm underneath JC’s shirt to feel the muscle in JC’s belly flutter, hot and sleek against his hand. 

JC came, hot and quick down Justin’s throat, and Justin licked him clean before tucking him back inside his pants, buttoning them up with unsteady thumbs. Justin was still flapping in the wind, so once JC climbed off, Justin tidied himself up, too. His cock was still full, still tingling, and he touched it a bit before zipping up. JC leaned against him, settling in his arms. 

“I love you,” Justin said seriously. 

JC smiled at him, so fucking beautiful that Justin’s heart split in his chest, and touched Justin’s nose with one long finger. “I know. I love you, too, man. I got into a fight for you. I’m morally opposed to violence, you know. Mennonite,” JC reminded him, trying to put on his best sombre face, but his face split into a grin after half a second. Justin threw back his head, and he laughed.


End file.
